A Final Solution
by Silver Sister
Summary: What's a girl to do when there's nothing left to live for? She's been pushed to her limits, and now, Relena is gonna find out . . . But what about when Heaven isn't ready? What about when Relena still has matters to take care of?
1. Ending With Pain

A Final Solution   
  
  
  
  
  


Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, and never will until I get very, very rich and buy out all the rights, then I won't have to write these disclaimers anymore! HAH!-- crazy? Me? No! Get that coat away from me!   
  


AN: Angsty? Oh yeah. At least I hope so. ^_^;; Have fun reading.   
  
  
  
  
  


She sat at her vanity, staring dazed into the clear mirror. The face that stared back was blank. 

She was surprised at the heaviness of her heart. After all this, it was finally over. Over. She could rest. So why wasn't she even a bit relieved? She felt even more depressed, somehow, almost as if she should be crying. 

Relena remembered her last conference all too well . . .   
  


" . . . So, in conclusion, I would like to announce . . ."   
  


The press had waited, everyone of them leaning forward slightly, as if to prick the words from the very air before they were ever spoken. They had been told ahead of time about a 'huge announcement' that would take place. 

" . . . That I am resigning in my position as the leader of the Sank Kingdom."   
  


The collective gasp that followed should have rendered her deaf. Right after the sudden shocked silence, pandemonium erupted. Above everyone's shocked whispers--and flat out yelled questions from the press--Relena simply went on.   
  


"I would like you all to know that I have thought long and hard on this. Arrangements have been made for a replacement. Please, no questions. That is all . . . that is all I can give you, right now." 

If anything, they had just grown louder. Guards came from the sides of the stage to guide her off, not a few giving her baffled looks. She knew everyone of them by name, as if it mattered. David, closest to her, seemed about ready to say something as they made their way quickly to her limo. He didn't get a chance to say anything, though, as the press swarmed in like bees to honey, demanding answers to questions she had no intention of listening to. She felt numb as she had ducked inside the long black car, and had remained silent the whole way home . . .   
  


The face in the mirror seemed to mock her in it's serenity. The events of earlier in the day had had their effects, too. Inside, she still wanted it to end. It wouldn't, though. There was only one true way to end all the emotions . . . all these horrible feelings within her own chest, a whirlpool of anger, stress, sadness . . . too many to name. They expected her at another press conference tomorrow. How surprised they would be when she never showed up . . . 

Her hand lightly traced the marble of her vanity, moving towards the mirror. A compartment, only seen if one knew where to look, clicked open at the touch of her fingers. She grabbed a small box and withdrew it from it's hiding place.   
  


Noin had been upset. No, wait, that was an understatement . . . she had been well-nigh furious at having not been told beforehand. Everyone was upset, even the few she had told . . . but she couldn't care. Her decision was made and her path had been taken. No one would turn her from it, now. No one cared enough to. 

The box was simple . . . purchased awhile ago, though she had had no idea what she would be using it for in the future. 

She opened it, and drew out a letter-opener. At least, it looked like a letter-opener . . . the little, dagger-like kind. A small black handle, golden colored blade. 

The blade was sharp, though. Sharper then expected. Sharp enough to cut. 

A small, half-hearted giggle that had no mirth escaped closed lips. Yes, simple. Simple in all it's glory . . . 

The blade was withdrawn. She stared at it, twirling it between her fingers as if fascinated. 

The door to her room was closed, and everyone had been given strict orders to not let her be disturbed. This memory brought on a heavy smile as well. Perhaps they had all thought that she wanted to be alone because of the stress of the day . . . Hah! If only they knew! The stress of the years, of taking on a job she knew she could no longer handle, of having her childish heart broken too many times . . . 

The mocking grin faded and disappeared. Far be it for her to finish this night without thoughts of . . . him. 

Heero Yuy. Did he feel nothing, the selfish bastard? He knew . . . he knew, damn it, he had to!-- about her feelings. And he treated her as something either far beneath him, or a bug of some kind--shocking him at all the wrong moments, something he wanted to tiptoe away from. 

She supposed that it was his wall of strength that drew her to him, at first. But that wasn't all of it . . . perhaps it was what he symbolized, as well. A challenge, a puzzle to her, and she didn't even have all the pieces . . . He was danger. He was the mysterious. He was everything she had only glimpsed in books before, intoxicating and repulsing at the same time. But what interest did he have in her? Nothing. He had saved her for the sole reason that she would, in turn, save the world from further war. That was what he had cared about-- stopping the war.   
  


Another giggle, this time somewhat of a sob. How ironic some things were. He, Heero Yuy, a soldier of War who had more maturity at age 15 then she, herself, probably had now. And she, Relena Peacecraft--or Dorlain-- A princess of peace, innocent and ignorant of the world and it's ways. Well, formerly ignorant. She was all to knowing, now . . . 

There were strange similarities, too. One, she thought off often. They both fought for peace. In different ways, maybe, but still, the principle was the same. Another, less noticeable but still there-- Heero Yuy had no true name. The one he had been born with seemed to have been forgotten, and the one he used now, only an alias. And her . . . she supposed that she didn't have a true name, either. Dorlain was something she had been given . . . and Peacecraft, a name thrown onto her, shockingly heavy in it's responsibilities. Neither was truly her. She wondered who she was, sometimes . . . 

And they had both matured much faster then they should have. She had grown to face the rising tasks and demands of her Peacecraft life, and he to face the simple, life ripping aspect of war.   
  


The blade fell, landing without a sound on the light tan carpet. The moon shimmered through the curtains innocently, the stars blinking throughout the patch of sky seen through her window. 

She frowned, staring at the sharped-metal and wondering why she had dropped it. The window earned and absent glance--she'd have to close it soon, or risk the room becoming too cold to warm--and she reached down for the small, simple weapon again. 

. . . Why had she worried about the window? It wasn't as if she would mind, mere moments from then . . . 

She had given him shelter, comfort. Stayed by him, dared to speak to him in rare moments of privacy, perhaps wanted the soak up some of the strength and determination he seemed to vibrate in. And he had ignored her . . . scared, perhaps? No. No, not him. He was never scared . . . not even facing death, unlike her.   
  


Yes, that was it. She was scared, despite her own decision. It was almost laughable . . . what had been his words? When he had come to rescue her, shocking her, forcing her to dare to hope that he had felt something . . . What had been his words?   
  


"Don't make me repeat myself. I'm nothing compared to you . . ."   
  


Nothing could have prepared her for that. She had just sat in dumbfounded silence, watching as he continued with his work. 

She pressed the blade against her other thumb. A small tear trickled down one cheek, but she actually felt quite numb inside, now. She had to test it . . . is was almost silly, but she had to. Her had shook. Could she do it? What if she forced herself to, and it wasn't sharp enough? What then?   
  


She remembered running to him, the one time he himself had fallen. The gun dropping, him slamming to his knees . . . she hadn't even hesitated. On moment she had been by Lady Une, the next, holding him, embracing him. It had been almost instinct. 

" . . . Heero . . . my Heero . . ."   
  


Another tear. She was trembling, now. Did she really have the courage? At least she knew that even the perfect soldier could fall. As if that was any consolation. No, it was his strength falling that inevitably lead to her own fall . . . 

Wait. No, that wasn't right either. The key . . . the main thing . . . the main thing was that he had left. After he had promised to stay. Left, and disappeared. 

And now here she was. Trembling, wanting the blade to go down, but hesitant, even now . . .! What else had she to live for? What else? 

A brief flash of pain made her gasp and her grip weaken. The weapon fell to the carpet again, this time, the tip smeared with her own blood. She studied the minuscule cut on her thumb with wide eyes, before searching in habit for the nearest band-aid. She stopped herself, chiding lightly in her own mind. Once again, she reached for the knife. Once again, she pressed it against skin. Wrist, this time. She waited for her hands to still, wanting no chance of a mistake. She would have to be quick, switching the blade to the other hand once the first part was done, and completing it all . . . She would, this time.   
  


Truly, no one cared. Everyone was somewhere else. She had no one. The one person she had though might understand her, might care, even a smudge, was gone. He would never come back.   
  


She drew in a breath, firming her grip and got ready to draw it across her smooth, pale skin.   
  


Goodbye, Heero. I hope that the peace holds . . .   
  


The knife moved, and her eyes fell shut, waiting and wanting the oncoming darkness, the pool of unfeeling that would drown her own sorrow and tears, swallow her up and never have to make her feel her own heart again. Never. 

Goodbye . . .   
  
  
  


AN: Wow, angsty and dark. This is the first time I've ever tried to write on of these things . . . *Shrugs* I dunno, I felt like writing it and I really hope that it turned out ok. I would _love_ a review, even if it was just to point out every little error!   
  


Also . . . if anyone likes this, which I doubt,--but hey! Can't blame me for hoping!-- I might continue this. Dunno . . . just a thought. If I get any comments asking for a continuation, I will, how about that? Anywho . . . it's 12:30 and I _have_ to get to bed, so . . . night, all! 


	2. Beyond Suicide

Chapter two.

***

Light . . . everything was so . . . light . . .   
  


Whiteness surrounded her. White and black, at the same time. She could see, and she could not see . . .   
  


Her eyes opened, somewhat with a struggle. For a moment she wasn't even sure if she had opened her eyes, as she still saw white. However, that was only the paint of the ceiling, which she soon realized as she began to focus. Now, where was she? What had happened?   
  


Crying caught her attention to the side. Blinking, she turned her head. She was in a bed, she noted. A slightly uncomfortable bed. Her eyes took in the figure, sitting on the chair, hands covering her face and . . . crying.   
  


Only one person kept her hair like that.   
  


Noin?   
  


Slowly, she sat up, staring. She was vaguely aware of a throbbing in her wrists, and slowly, she was beginning to remember . . . "Noin?" This was asked very quietly. She had a sinking feeling in her heart.   
  


Noin looked up, blinking away more tears. Relena was astounded. She didn't think that she had -ever- seen the woman cry before . . . "Noin, what's wrong?"   
  


She looked down again, shaking her head. "Oh, Gods, Relena. . ." Her voice was anguished.   
  


Relena was starting to get worried. She'd been caught, apparently, but . . .she was alive, right? Why was Noin crying? "Noin . . . tell me what's wrong."   
  


And still the woman let more tears fall. "I'm sorry," was all she said.   
  


Footsteps and voices from outside the door suddenly caught Relena's attention, cutting her next question off. For the first time, she looked around. She was in a hospital . . . of course. Damn it.   
  


"Sir, please, she's--"   
  


"My sister. Let me in!"   
  


Relena stared at the door. It couldn't be . . . but just as she was running every reason though her head on why he couldn't be there, the door opened and Millardo stormed in, followed anxiously by a nurse. He stopped dead when he saw her, eyes widening.   
  


Noin's head had come up, and she even gasped. "Zechs . . ."   
  


He met her eyes, saying nothing. And suddenly, Noin stood, wiping away stray tears. "It's alright," She told the nurse, barely keeping her voice from breaking. The nurse frowned a moment, before nodding and walking out, letting the door close behind her. Then, Noin suddenly moved forward again, and without any words Millardo enveloped her in his arms.   
  


Relena blinked. "Please, could someone please explain--?"   
  


Noin cut her off, seemingly ignoring her. "Zechs . . . I'm so sorry, I never knew . . ."   
  


Zechs shook her head. Relena was surprised . . . she'd rarely seen him act so . . . tender. "You couldn't've known, Noin." His eyes swept to the bed again.   
  


Relena sighed, opening her mouth again. She was about to-- suddenly, she realized that her brother wasn't even watching her. He was watching something just behind her. She frowned, and turned her head to look . . . and screamed, pushing herself up and out of the bed. She promptly fell on the floor, but didn't notice, standing and quickly walking backwards until her back met the wall.   
  


She had seen . . . herself.   
  


Relena saw herself, lying still and pale in the hospital bed. She stared, eye wide. There was no way. No possible way . . .   
  


Zechs and Noin noticed nothing. Noin had pulled away with a sigh, and had sat back down. Relena stared at her.   
  


"Noin! What's going on? Millardo? Either of you! Please, just say anything!" But they were both silent.   
  


Relena stared at them. She could not . . . would not . . . stare at the abolition lying on the bed. She felt very, very scared and very, very alone. This wasn't possible. Damn it, she was supposed to be -dead-! Or at least, not split in two! What the heck had happened? What had made her this way??   
  


She moved to a free chair, frowning and staring around the room. This wasn't possible. This was a dream. This was impossible. This had to be a dream.   
  


The door opened suddenly, cutting off her thought-mantra. She looked up into the face of an unfamiliar man, a solemn face and doctor's outfit. He stepped into the room, closing the door slowly behind him. Noin was standing again, and Millardo turned to reguard the doctor as well.   
  


The doctor cleared his throat, bringing his hands in front of him. "Millardo Peacecraft, I presume?" He almost sounded . . . awed . . . but he was obviously trying to act professional.   
  


Her brother nodded.   
  


The doctors nodded in return, checking his clipboard briefly. "I'm afriad I have some bad news. Your sister had suffered substantial blood loss. We succeded in the transfusion, however, as she can see, she is still in a delicate position." The doctor paused here, and Relena listened intently.   
  


A dream, a dream, thisisadream . . . she thought.   
  


Millardo pursed his lips. "What are you trying to tell me?"   
  


"What I'm trying to say . . ." He glances at the bed, a movement Relena purposely did not follow, "Is that she is in a rather unstable condition. She might still . . . well . . . die, I'm afriad."   
  


Noin's hand rose to cover her mouth and Millardo's eyes widened.   
  


"Well, do what you need to fix that!" His voice was almost a snap.   
  


The doctor winced. "We've done about all we can. All we can do now is wait for her to wake up . . . or not."   
  


Relena stood. Her eyes were wide, disbelieving. "But . . .I am awake . . ." Yet as before, no one turned, no one listened.   
  


Her words fell on deaf ears.   
  


Frantically, almost, she flipped her wrists upward. Yes, yes, she saw the marks there . . . made by her. But they were just that. Scars. They seemed as if they had been made months ago . . . yet the slight throbbing pain continued. This was . . . impossible. Her heart raced, she began to pace frantically. What. Had. Happened???   
  


Wait. Now she paused. Her heart -didn't- race . . . with trembling fingers, her hand moves to touch her chest.   
  


Nothing. No study beat. But that was. . .   
  


She was beginning to believe in the impossible. She was. . . but it couldn't be! . . . dead. Somehow. Her ghost was standing, aware, while her body . . . her body lay dying on an uncomfortable hospital bed.   
  


The doctor had left. If any more conversation had been said, she had missed it. Noin fell into the chair again, and Millardo moved to the bed, staring down at her body gravely.   
  


He thought she was asleep. Yet she was there, aware and watching him.   
  


Yet dead.   
  


***   
  


An: Short chapter, I know. ^_^;; Review! Please please please? *Puppy eyes* Come on, guys, I'm even resorting to begging. Um . . . how about bribing? ^_^ Review and I'll get the next chapter out faster? Yeah? ^_^ Anywho, I hope muchly that you enjoyed and such.


	3. Wound's Path

Chapter Three!   
  
  
  


***   
  
  
  


Millardo and Noin had been there for a very long time. Relena waited for about as long as an hour--there were no clocks, so she wasn't quite sure of the time--before she absolutely couldn't stand it. Except for a nurse, who came in briefly to check on her progress, the room was uninterrupted. Deathly silence but for an occasional moment, when Noin would stifle a sob. And the look in her brother's eyes . . . that darkened look she had managed to glimpse when he had taken control of Libra . . . it was all far too much for her to handle.   


To a point, she was surprised that she felt little sorrow over her actions . . . mostly just worry and fear. Heck, wasn't she dead in every sense of the word anyway? What could she do? Plus, the body lying, so still and pale on the bed, was something she simply could -not- look at.  


She tried pacing, but the more she stayed in that horrible little room, the more she seemed to be driven insane. She -had- to get out.   
  


So, that decision made, she passed by Millardo and Noin quickly, grabbing at the handle of the door. Out. Out. Anywhere, anywhere that was -out-!   
  


She twisted the doorknob, pulling it open. . . no, wait. The door didn't open. She twists it again, yanking on the door. Nothing. Was the handle even turning?   
  


. . .Was she trapped? A cold feeling swept over her. What if . . . what if she could never leave this room?  
  


Movements becoming almost frantic, she pulled at the door with all her might. It couldn't be locked! What was wrong? What the Hell was--?   
  


Abruptly, the door swung open, immediately knocking Relena back and forcing her to fall, quite undignified. She sat in stunned silence, staring up. The form of the nurse stood there.   
  


"I'm sorry, but visiting hours are over . . ." She began, but Relena couldn't wait. With near-panic in her step she darted forward, through the open door and past the nurse's figure.   
  


She didn't hear her own heavy footsteps as she entered the tiled hallway, but she didn't care. Obviously, it was late. One other nurse, far down the hall, stood by a cart, but Relena gave her barely a notice. Steps quick and light, she moved for the end of the hall to the elevators. They were closed, and little traffic was around the hospital at this hour. Relena jabbed at the 'down' arrow button. Out of the room was enough to relieve immediate insanity, but . . . the stress was still there, clutching her heart. She needed to be out of the hospital completely.   
  


The light in the button hadn't turned on. Frowning, she pressed it again. Nothing. Were the elevators not working?   
  


At that moment, she did not have the patience of mind to wait around and find out. Turning to the stairwell, she turned and walked quickly down that, not having to bother with a door as the way to the stairs was open.   
  


She finally made it to street level. The exit to the stairs was conveniently placed apart from the main exit. A locked gate stood in front of her. She frowned at it for a moment, then took a step forward. Without much difficulty, Relena managed to lug herself up and over the bars, to land on the side walk outside.   
  


Only now did she pause, and turn back. The wind ruffled her hair lightly. It was dark enough to see the stars, yet the vast shape of the hospital shown quite clearly. Now that she was out . . . it seemed to be a part of some horrible dream.   
  


She turned. A few people walked along the city streets even at this hour. They huddled in their coats, breath blowing frost into the air.   
  


Taking a step, Relena thought nothing of it . . . and suddenly the thought hit her hard enough she make her lose her balance. It was -cold-. Even huddled up in jackets, the people looked freezing.   
  


Carefully, Relena glanced down at herself. She was clad in one of those white hospital gowns, with short sleeves and ankles bare. She didn't even have -shoes-! Yet she felt nothing. No warmth, no cold. Nothing. She felt the wind even as it teased her hair . . . but not the faintest hint of a chill crept upon her arms.   
  


Relena shivered, and, of course, not from the cold. The utter reality of her situation was beginning to dawn on her, and she wasn't quite sure if she'd ever been as scared in her life. She really -was- just a little lost ghost, wandering around the world to find . . . something.   
  


With sudden passion and fury, she spun around to scream at the sky. "I didn't want this! I didn't want this at all! I wanted a way out, Damn you! Let me go! LET ME OUT!"   
  


The stars blinked. The moon laid resting, half full. And the other people of the street continued onward, noticing nothing.   
  


Relena realized that her fists were clenched. Her eyes seemed to water, which was impossible, right? Wasn't she a ghost?   
  


Carefully, she forced herself to relax, closing her eyes tightly. Her chest still felt tight and her wrists . . . they still throbbed. How? How was it possible to feel so much emotion and pain, yet not even feel so much as the temperature?   
  


As suddenly as that, she realized that she had no where to go.   
  


Where -was- she? She'd never been to the hospital before--not this one, anyway--and these road were unfamiliar, untraveled.   
  


A solitary car road by. The wind ruffled the skimpy hospital gown, and Relena watched it pass, suddenly emotionless. She felt . . . well, she wasn't sure what she felt.   
  


A vision of the door and the elevator button came to her. They way they hadn't moved . . . It didn't make any sense. Doors and buttons were unmovable, yet the wind she felt? No, wait. She had been knocked over by the door.   
  


The rules of this new . . . what? Life? Form? Were utterly hidden to her. Why couldn't this be like in the movies, where she had a nice guardian angel to explain everything? To gently stand there with feathery white wings, and preach what she had done wrong, and what to do to right the actions?   
  


Her steps began. She had no one, and nothing. She was . . . lost. Her eyes watched the ground almost distractedly. Could she cry in this form? Did she want to? She felt something clutching at her heart . . . and her wrists still pained, a constant throb to remind her of the desperation that had sent her on this path.   
  


She walked for quite a ways. Still, street signs and such held little meaning for her. She truly had no idea where she was, or where she was going.   
  


So, after walking aimlessly for a while, she finally sighed, stopped, and forced herself to stop and sit on a bus-stop bench. What was she searching for, anyway? A way out, most likely. She regretted doing what she'd done. Perhaps, if she had talked to someone . . . but at the time, it had seemed the only solution . . .   
  


Her head tilted up to watch the night sky again. "I regret it." That was a mumbled admittance. "Is that what you wanted? I regret it, and if you send me back now, I'll never do it again."   
  


Absolutely nothing.   
  


"Please?"   
  


Still silence. Even the winds seemed to be dead.   
  


Relena sighed and rested back against the wooden bench. What now?   
  


"I don't know where to go." A newspaper fluttered across the street before her, she barely noticed it. "What do you want? Just . . . give me a -little- help to figure out whatever lesson you wanted me to learn." She wasn't even sure who she was talking to. God, she supposed, if there was such a being.   
  


Still silence, and the low rumble of an approaching vehicle.   
  


Relena was starting to feel helplessly frustrated. How was she supposed to do anything when she didn't know what she was supposed to -do-?   
  


She blinked when she suddenly realized the bus was pulling up. She only sat there, waiting for it to pass. Then it stopped, surprising her, letting it's doors swing open.   
  


Relena jumped up, staring around to see if someone else was there. No one. She was the only one there.   
  


"Well, dear?" Asked a kindly voice. Relena spun to face the person who had spoken. The bus driver? She seemed to be an older women, perhaps in her fifties, with assuring blue eyes. Relena kept staring.   
  


A sigh from the driver. "Come on, little one. We'll take you where you need to go."   
  


Well, obviously, this was not a normal bus. After all, no one -else- had seen her. So, all confused and cautious, Relena stepped forward, and then unto the steps. It was only after she had gotten completely in when she winced, feeling at her gown, although she knew it was pointless.   
  


"I don't have any money . ." She admitted, in an apologetic tone.   
  


The lady smiled and chuckled, reaching forward to close the bus doors. "Don't you worry about that, Dear. Just take a seat."   
  


Relena blinked at her, but had little time as the bus jumped into motion. Stumbling, Relena nearly feel backwards and into the nearest seat. She watched the front window in stunned silence for a moment, before earning courage and turning to stare at the back of the bus. It was strangely empty; there were only three other passengers besides herself. One, a man probably in his mid-30's, with a solemn face and business suit. Another, a younger girl-- perhaps 17 or so?-- who had a haunted look in her face, and clothes as if she'd just come from a party. The last, a sight that strangely made Relena's heart twist in her chest, was a young boy, not more then 10. He sat in the very back seat, knees pulled up to his chin, and a small baseball cap on his head. Motherly instinct made Relena want to go and comfort the poor child, but fear held her in her seat.   
  


"That one has the longest ride," The driver murmured, almost sadly. Relena spun around to face her. The driver had seen where her eyes had landed last, and Relena wondered how.   
  


"Where -are- you taking us?" She asked.   
  


"No talking to the driver while she's driving," Came the only reply, strict enough to make Relena immediately obey.   
  


She wasn't quite sure how long the ride lasted, and a few checks back let her know that none of the other passengers had niether changed their positions or expressions. It made her wonder if they were the same as her. Bodies alive, yet somehow, the spirit had escaped and was wandering.   
  


The bus stopped once. When it did, it was in a neighborhood Relena had -never- seen before, and she wondered how far they had gone.   
  


The girl had stood up, though she carried no baggage. Carefully, she made her way to the front of the bus, and Relena started when she saw the girl carried an empty bottle, something that had probably before contained alcohol.   
  


"See you at the next stop," Nodded the driver, leaning over to open the doors. The girl said nothing, only turning to leave, and gave Relena her second shock-- the right side of her face was purple and bruised, a wound leading down to the collar of her shirt and probably farther down.   
  


Even after the girl had left and bus had started up again, Relena felt very unsettled. She wondered what had happened to the girl-- party clothes and alcohol, in any case a bad combination. She realized that she did not want to know.   
  


The next time the bus stopped, no one got up. They sat there for a few moments, and though Relena twisted around to check, neither the business man nor the child moved. So Relena turned to face the driver questioningly.   
  


"Your stop." Only two words, and then the driver had opened the doors again. Relena sat, saying nothing. The driver sighed, sounding sympathetic.   
  


"Now, come on-- everyone has their stops. Don't be afraid, dear, because this is supposed to happen. Now scoot."   
  


Relena stood slowly, walking uncertainly towards the steps. Where were they, anyway? She turned to the driver again.   
  


"If you could just explain--"   
  


But the driver cut her off, waving her hands impatiently if not gently. Relena sighed and got off. 

One step off the bus and Relena was shocked again. The grass and the buildings . . . a road before that curved too perfectly upward . . . She spun around, eyes wide.   
  


"But we're on a colo--!"   
  


The bus was off, driving down the road. Relena stared after it, eyes wide. Suddenly, she was scared. More scared then before. They had literally driven off of the earth and to a colony without any space shuttle whatsoever.   
  


This was . . .! . . . Or was anything impossible, now?   
  


Her shaken mind finally began to register the buildings before her. Wait, wait. She knew this colony, didn't see? Yes! She had been here before, many times. Or, at least, she had been here when she'd had her body.   
  


Wasn't this Quatre Winner's colony? 


	4. Driving Insane

Chapter Four  
  
_Notes: Enjoy this next chapter, and Relena's first stop at a very familiar colony!_

If only the throbbing of her wrists wasn't so distracting, Relena thought, as she walked down the colony streets. Besides that, she felt . . . naked . . .walking out in pubic with only the hospital gown. Even if no one could see her, it was more out of pride. She hadn't seen anyone else in a hospital gown . . . 

Actually, she hadn't seen many people period. She was wondering what she was supposed to do. Apparently, she had some task to finish, which she would very much like to finish and then get the Hell out of there, but she had no clue what it was. She'd try to find her way to Quatre's residence, but, besides recognizing the colony, she didn't know it very well. She had no idea how to get to Quatre's house . . . indeed, she wasn't even sure where she was. 

There was a little store to the side of the road; she had been watching it absently for some time now. Maybe, because she seemed to have some sort of fascination with it, it held some significance. 

Or maybe she was just tired. 

Then again, could ghosts get tired? She couldn't get cold; she knew that. 

Two people came out of the building. One, a towering, heavily muscled male, the other, also male, but smaller and shorter. Younger. 

"Thanks, Rashid." The small one murmured as the tall one held the door open. Relena's eyes popped, and, after a moment, she burst into a run after the two leaving figures. She knew that voice. Speak of the devil! It was Quatre! 

She ran to them, and then stopped, a few feet behind. She matched their pace as they trudged up the walkway. Quatre had his hands in his pockets, and he was looking downward. 

Relena only watched them. She had half started to call out to him, but had stopped herself, remembering that no one could hear her either. Damn. But, at least she felt loads better at just seeing a familiar person! 

. . . Well . . . the back of a familiar person, in any case . . . 

She followed them for a while more, unsure what to do. Quatre seemed sad, and neither he nor Rashid said anything. 

Finally, though, the taller man broke the silence. "You shouldn't act so down, Master Quatre . . ." 

"She was my friend, Rashid," Quatre sighed. 

Relena felt a jolt. Was he talking about her . . . Her? Well, of course. It made sense. So, she was supposed to listen to them talk and then find some lesson out of it. Okay! Got it. Now all she had to do was wait, listen, and then she could go on! 

"Perhaps if you talk about it?" Rashid prodded, gently. 

Quatre sighed again. "There's not much to say. I don't know why she would do what she did, and I'm hoping that she was framed, or something . . . I'm not sure. But, it just doesn't make sense. She should've known that she could've talked to me if she was feeling depressed . . ." 

"So perhaps you didn't know her that well after all." 

Relena was now only a few feet behind them. She sighed. What was the point to all this? There was nothing to do but keep following . . . 

"I knew her well enough!" Quatre's kind voice raised, not in anger, but in defense for himself. His words, all this time, had been coated in a thick syrup of worry. "From the war and after, I knew her well enough." His voice had gone back to it's normal tone, calm and sure. Then again, Relena noted, Quatre didn't sound as sure and calm as she'd always remembered him being . . . 

"The news is nothing to go by. That's all." Quatre continued. Rashid paced silently at his side, saying little, but listening greatly. "I . . . I just need to get a first hand account of this. I'm sure when I reach Noin or . . . someone . . . I'll be able to find the truth about this . . ." 

Rashid nodded. Then, when Quatre did not continue, he murmured softly, "As it is, Master Quatre, there is little you or I or anyone can do now." 

Quatre head bowed, sadly. After a moment, he simply said, "I know." 

Relena felt a faint pang of guilt. Then again, she'd known people would mourn her . . . Ah-hah. That was the point: to make her feel guilty, right? Well, she did feel guilty about hurting Quatre, but eventually--as selfish as it may have seemed to say- he'd get over it. It wasn't like she had done . . . it . . . in the spur of the moment. The night had been carefully planned out. And the world would've been much better off without her, really. She was sure of it. She wasn't strong enough to believe she could change the world anymore. People always had a will to fight, to kill . . . to solve problems with violence. And though she didn't believe that, she couldn't convince every single individual in the world that her own opinions were right. Now, though, the way was paved for a stronger leader, a person who could do that. 

That way, the world could be the better place she'd always imagined . . . 

They had reached a gate. Rashid moved up to an intercom-like-thing, speaking soft words she didn't quite catch. The gate swung open, and Rashid started inside. 

Quatre stared forlornly at the opened gate for a moment. Then, he turned suddenly, his gaze swinging back . . . landing strait on Relena! She froze, eyes going wide, staring back. But! They couldn't see her! 

His eyes kept going, though, and she calmed down. They swept across the entire colony, it seemed, and the colony delegate and former Gundam Pilot looked very lost, right then. Relena frowned. 

Rashid turned, and his frown was more reproving then Relena's was sad. "Master Quatre." 

"Coming, Rashid." Quatre's face composed itself, into the diplomatic expression Relena knew so well, and he spun immediately, following the older man inside. 

"Oh, Quatre." Relena murmured, softly. She certainly hadn't though he'd be quite that broken up over it . . . 

Suddenly, she gave a start. The gates were closing! She meeped and ran through the rapidly dwindling space, nearly catching the hem of her gown in the iron. She turned to frown at it, as if it had purposefully done that just to cause her trouble. Not that she was sure if she even could be hurt in this form . . . besides the throbbing in her wrists, she felt nothing at all . . . even her unprotected feet just felt . . . well . . . like they usually did. She couldn't feel the ground. Couldn't hear, smell . . . well, anything. It was unnerving. Then again, she -was- a ghost. 

"This is ridiculous," She stated to the air, calmly annoyed. The air deemed it wise to not reply. That done, she started after her colony friend again, stepping after him through the large door to what apparently was his house. 

She could vaguely remember coming in here once before . . . mostly, they'd meet in his office because, usually, they talked about business . . . but once he had invited her to stay the night, and she'd excepted, fairly tired with that day and not wanting to travel all the way back to earth on the same night. 

She should've expected that Heero would've been there, that same night. He had been silent, watchful, and stoic as always. But he'd been there, apparently staying with Quatre . . . boy, hadn't she been surprised when she'd finished changing, come out into Quatre's drawing room and found him calmly reclining in a chair, reading a novel? It took quite a lot to surprise a diplomat like herself, who had been through the war that she had . . . but, that had done it. 

Now she knew he liked the story Moby Dick, though. 

He probably had known she was there even before she'd stepped in the door . . . he'd looked up, given her a small, bland nod, then gone back to ignoring her. 

As he always seemed to do . . . 

Back to the present, though. Quatre was walking off that-a-way . . . the plan? Follow him, of course! 

That she did, blindly hoping this would solve whatever the riddle was. She followed him down a long hallway, the floor covered in a lush red carpet that she wished she could feel. It would be comforting, to be able to feel . . . well, anything, right then. There were a few other people in the hallways, people she didn't know. Quatre payed them little mind, finally stepping into one of the rooms. Relena, remembering what had happened with the door at the hospital, quickly darted in before the door shut. Then, she stood just inside the door, a little smug at her own agility. She could do this. 

Sure. 

After a moment, she realized that she recognized the room as Quatre's office. Her eyes followed her friend as he sat down at his desk with a small, defeated sigh. Huge stacks of paper awaited him, piled high, as if mocking him in his own work. Yet the blonde man ignore them; instead simply put his head in his hands and stared at nothing for quite awhile. 

Relena shifted, standing there silently for a few moments. When nothing happened, she rolled her eyes heavenward and went to sit down at one of the big, plush chairs before Quatre's desk. It was so easy to remember when she had been there before, sitting in this very chair, crouching over trade agreements or other contracts with Quatre, firing ideas back and forth, canceling this, accepting that. She had grown to be quite fond of him, actually, and they had become good friends. 

Which brought another thought to mind. Was she going to have to visit every friend before she could move on to . . .where ever? Relena blanched. This was going to take forever! Who knew dying required so much work? Ugh. 

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. A small clock on the wall sounded out the seconds, and when Relena realized she was absently tapping her foot to the ticks, she looked up with an annoyed glare. 

Quatre was in still the same position. 

She watched him for a moment, biting her lip. "Quatre, don't be so sad . . ." She murmured, half under her breath. "Look. Things will be a lot easier for you." . . .That was a flat out lie, and she knew it. " . . .Well, maybe harder at first . . . look, there's no reason for you to beat yourself up over this!" 

He, of course, made no reply. Deciding that she was getting rather annoyed by all of this, Relena sat back with a small huff, suddenly jerking when Quatre raised his head, as if hearing her. She stared at him with a wide-eyed gaze for a long moment. This was really eerie, she noted. Then the phone rang, giving her another shock. 

Quatre closed his eyes, looking away. The phone rang again, and he finally lifted the screen to receive the call with a resigned air. 

"I asked not to receive any calls," Quatre murmured quietly, as greeting to a blonde-haired female face that filled the screen, whom Relena though to be his receptionist. 

"Mr. Winner, I'm sorry, but the call was most urgent." 

He paused, then nodded. "All right. Thank you." So polite. 

The woman's faced quickly disappeared. Quatre moved the screen a little to get a better view of it, inconveniently cutting off Relena's view. 

She bit her lip, and after a moment's consideration, stood up to go peer over Quatre's shoulder. Could ghosts eavesdrop? She was right behind him when Quatre started in surprise at the next face to fill the screen. Seeing who it was, Relena blinked as well. Now, that was a face she hadn't seen in quite a while. . . 

" . . .Trowa?" Quatre asked finally, breaking the silence. 

Deep green eyes and dark brown hair was there, the serious man on the other line showing no emotions, as usual, on his countenance. "Quatre." Trowa gave him a small nod of greeting. 

It was obvious that Quatre was very surprised, yet happy, to see an old comrade. 

"Trowa!" He exclaimed with the most energy she had seen him use that day. "What brought on this call?" 

" . . .Things are happening." Trowa admitted after a moment. "They've been trying to get a hold of you all day." 

"They?" Quatre asked after a moment, smile fading. "Who's 'they?' " 

"The Preventers." Trowa paused, then went on. "Since Relena's been . . . hospitalized, certain events and . . .groups . . .are coming to a head." 

Quatre didn't answer for long moment. Then, "What do you mean?" 

"I think you know." 

Again, a long pause, and Quatre shook his head, in a determined fashion. "That can't be right. Heero told me they had been taken care of." 

"Apparently, even the perfect soldier can make mistakes." . . .Was that a bit of dry humor? The world was coming to an end. "In any case, they haven't been taken care of." 

" . . .What?" Relena finally uttered, very confused, forgetting they couldn't hear her for a moment. When no one replied, she remembered, and nearly stopped a frustrated growl. Who was "they"? 

Quatre was being silent again. Trowa waited patiently, making no move or comment. Quatre opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then, "What do they need me for?" 

"They need to speak with you. In person." 

"Why not over the phone?" 

A pause. "This line is secure, Quatre. But ears can hear through walls." 

Quatre nodded. "I understand." Silence, then, "When?" 

"Tomorrow." 

Quatre sat up strait with a small sputter. "Tomorrow?" He blinked rapidly. "That's very short notice . . ." 

"A plane has already been called for you. I'm sure your work can wait a while . . ." 

"Oh, God, I don't care about the work . . ." Quatre sighed, gesturing absently to his already huge and neglected pile of papers that threatened to fall over. "I'm grateful for the excuse, actually. It's just . . . " He paused. "Soon. Very . . . soon. And Rashid will want to come, meaning the rest of them will want to come, meaning . . ." 

"You'll need a plan about the size of the one we've gotten for you." Trowa nodded. 

She thought she heard Quatre chuckle lightly, a sound that was without mirth. "Yes, I suppose." 

Trowa just nodded. "We'll talk more when you get here. The plane will arrive at oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow." 

"Got it. I'll . . . I'll tell the others." There was a pause, and Trowa moved as if to cut the connection. Quatre bowed his head, slightly, and let his voice stop his comrade. 

"Trowa?" 

Trowa's only reaction to show he had heard was his swift glancing up. 

" . . .How is she?" Quatre's voice was soft. Mournful. Relena glanced at him, taking her gaze from the screen, frowning slightly. He'd get over it . . . he would. The world could move on. No, really. It could. 

"She's in the same condition as she has been for the past two days. Not unsabilized, but not stablized, either." 

Two days? She'd been a ghost for the past two days? Relena stared in disbelief at the little screen. Two days. 

"Oh." Quatre nodded. He looked crestfallen. "Thank you. Please, contact me if . . . if anything changes. Or. . . if I can do anything . . ." 

Trowa nodded. Then, after a moment, "Sleep well, Quatre." 

"You too, my friend." 

The screen went blank, and Quatre simply sat there, still as a statue. He sighed. Relena frowned. 

Coming around to stand in front of him, she studied him silently. He looked about to cry. Seeing that, her reserve broke, and she knelt before him, softly. 

"Oh, Quatre . . . I'm sorry . . . I had no idea it would hurt you like this . . ." 

She reached up, to grab his arm. He simply stared at the floor, forlorn. 

" . . . Look . . . It'll get better. Believe me, I thought about it. It wasn't just a whim . . . This was my only way out. I swear." 

He still only faced the floor. 

" . . .Quatre . . ." She paused. " . . .I'm sorry." 

He still only faced the floor. He couldn't see her. Couldn't feel her. 

With an exasperated sigh, Relena stood quickly, walking away. She didn't want to see anymore. Besides, what was the point? No one could see her. Everyone thought she was in a hospital on earth, in a coma from a failed suicide attempt. 

Oh, yay. 

Upon reaching the gate, Relena paused. Looks like she was goingto have to use the up-and-over trick, again . . . Her thoughts cut off when the gates abruptly swung open. She blinked, then followed the road out. 

When she turned the next corner, she found the bus. The bus. She paused at the corner, before sighing and hurring to it. 

I guess I did . . . whatever I was supposed to do. She thought, then sighed. This whole thing is so pointless. Even if I see people I knew, what good can it do? I can't touch them and they can't see me. 

She strode to the open doors of the bus before peering inside. There was that same lady, sitting in the driver's seat, waiting expectantly. 

Relena pursed her lips at the driver. "What is this? How come you can see me? How come I'm a ghost?" 

"Hop on, Dear." Her voice was gentle. "You'll see eventually." 

Relena frowned, before climbing on again. As the bus jerked into motion and she found a seat, she mumbled to the back of the driver's head, "I don't want to be a ghost." 

"Not many do." She shruged. "Not many do. And, I'm sorry, sweetie, but it's just going to get worse." 

. . . Wasn't that just wonderful? 


	5. A World of Untouchable Change

**A Final Solution,  
Chapter 5**

The bus ride was the same as before. Silence filled the enclosed space, and Relena sat, melancholy, in the front seat. Did she dare try to break the iron silence, she was hushed by the driver.   
  
A glance to the back found two other passengers: the little boy she had seen before, still curled up in that same position, and a teenage boy who glared when she met his gaze. His dark blue eyes almost reminded her of a certain someone, except they were angry, not blank, and far too young at that.  
  
When Relena tried to pass time by looking out the window, she got a headache. Not because there was blinding white light or anything like that, but for a variety of reasons that made her feel as though she was watching a movie. For instance, the road would suddenly sharply turn, and yet the bus itself never seemed to jerk around the corner, continuing strait instead. Or when the road seemed perfectly strait, and the bus suddenly began jerking to and fro. What was really unsettling, though, was the way they seemed to jump from place to place without any warning at all. One moment, they'd be driving by an ocean. The very next, they would be on a lonely mountain road. Moreover, one moment it would be dawn, the next, midnight. The only consistent thing about the view was that there were never any other cars.  
  
Relena quickly decided to give up on the window.  
  
She wasn't sure how long they drove. There were no clocks anywhere and nothing to tell time by, so she lost all sense of such a concept. That only made her feel more detached, though; more like what she assumed a ghost must feel like, lonely and lost. She had to forfeit even the companionship of time.  
  
So it was a surprise when the bus abruptly pulled to a stop, and the doors opened. Relena blinked. When no one else moved to get off, she stood.  
  
" . . . My stop?" she asked the driver warily.  
  
The driver nodded impatiently. "Hurry up, dear. Got lots more places to go."  
  
Relena made way for the door, wondering, as she did, how the others seemed to know when to get off and she herself never did. Just before she stepped off, she turned back to the driver.  
  
"It would help if you could just _tell _me what I'm supposed to--"  
  
"You'll see, dear." The driver waved her off. She sighed, and stepped down.   
  
"Good luck," the lady said helpfully before the doors swung shut and the bus rambled off into the distance.  
  
"I'll need it," Relena finished, quietly. She sighed, turning to take a look around. Where was she now?  
  
Oh. Back on earth. That was apparent from the expanse sky and the absence of genetically-engineered plants and grass. She was in some urban-district of housings, and apparently, it was around midday.  
  
No matter what they did, Relena thought as she walked down the side of the road, synthetic-grass was just never _grass_. Absently, she wished she could feel grass beneath her feet, or the cement of the sidewalk. Feeling anything would be nice. She was missing smell and touch a lot, right then.  
  
She tentatively tried to walk on the grass, reaching out almost cautiously with a bare foot. She put a little weight on it, then yanked it back with a yelp. The grass was _hard_. It didn't bend at all! Relena eyed it in a pouting manner for a moment, before simply sighing and deciding to be on her way--where ever her way was--using just the sidewalk. God, but being a ghost was _frustrating.  
  
_Quatre nagged at her mind. She wondered how much time had passed and how he was doing. She knew he'd move on; eventually he might even come to understand why she had done what she did. She was sure of it.  
  
Walking and glancing around for he purpose here, she quickly left the urban district, making her way to a rather up-scale city. Her eyebrows lifted. She had been here before, and often. There was a building, part of it made to look like an inside theatre, that she had given a lot of speeches in . . .   
  
Suddenly suspicious, she immediately began to make way for that very place. When images on the veiwscreens outside came to her attention, she knew she was heading to the right place. Broadcasted for the entire city to know, news people spoke of world representatives holding a meeting in the great building in only a few moments' time. How much time _had _passed, for this to be taking place? She doubted the meeting was over her, despite her impact on the world. There was an edge of unease in the news that made Relena's eyes narrow. Something bad was happening, or had happened.  
  
She moved quickly for the meeting place, passing unseen through the crowd; the worried and waiting onlookers were collecting just outside. Everyone seemed uneasy. Relena was able to sneak past guards at the doors with no trouble at all-- benefits of being invisible--only to find, to her chagrin, that of course the doors would not open for her. Glaring at them for a moment, she sniffed, and then whirled around to try and find another way in. A window, perhaps.  
  
Right then, though, she came face to face with none other than Lady Une.  
  
Choking back a startled exclamation, Relena stepped back again, quite a few times. Lady Une, of course, ignored her; she was busy talking to the Guards. Her expression was very stern, and Relena recognized it for the one she wore when trying to deal with a big problem. She ended whatever she was saying and the Guards stepped back to admit her access to the doors. Lips pressed tightly together, she quickly moved past Relena and opened the doors, entering the building.  
  
Relena then got barely a second to stare at who _followed _Lady Une before she was forced to dart in after, squeezing through the shutting doors. This, Relena noted, was getting annoying. This mission or quest or whatever the heck it was supposed to be would be _so _much easier if she could just open the doors herself. Still, she was inside, at least.  
  
Inside, Relena was able to stare as Lady Une stopped just inside the doors and turned to talk to her two followers-- Who, coincidentally, just happened to be headed by none other than Quatre Winner and Trowa Barton. Behind Quatre were two of his ever present bodyguard.  
  
"Quatre, I'll escort you to the conference. Trowa, you know where to meet Wufei; he'll fill you in on the security measures."  
  
Both men nodded. They moved quickly, saying nothing more. Quatre, the other men, and Lady Une headed strait forward, towards the meeting room, whereas Trowa turned to the right and began heading up a flight of stairs.  
  
Relena paused. Which way? She didn't want to have to pass through doors if she could help it. (There was no way of telling if she could ever get _out _again) But she _did _want to see the meeting . . . Relena had a feeling that it was important to find out what this was all about.  
  
Wait. There was a balcony that overlooked the stage, wasn't there? Yes, she was sure of it . . . Quickly, she moved after Trowa, darting up the stairs. Reaching the top, she came to a long, darkened hallway. She squinted down to the left. Light briefly bathed the walls near that end, rapidly dimming. Groaning, she quickly dashed that way, managing to barely squeeze through the shutting door. She was outside again-- a balcony? No, a fire escape. She squinted against the sunlight, looking left and right. Damn! Where had that green-eyed Gundam Pilot gone, anyway?  
  
"Trowa. Glad you could come." Said a voice, directly above her.  
  
"Anytime."  
  
Relena looked up and sighed. Looked like she was going to be climbing the fire escape. Grumbling, she did so, wishing she had just gone with Quatre and Lady Une. She had learned a long time ago that it wasn't wise to attempt to follow a Gundam Pilot when the person was apparently on a mission.  
  
And now, oh joy, she wasn't going to be able to see the conference and whatever it happened to be about.  
  
Making her way up the ladder, Relena slowly followed the step until she came to the roof. She climbed of the ledge and immediately saw a team of Preventers working with all sorts of equipment. Wufei and Trowa stood in the middle of it all, bent over a map of some kind, laid over a make-shift table.  
  
Relena glanced around, shifted her weight from foot to foot for a moment, then made her way over to the two ex-pilots. She was careful to watch out for loose wires and taped-down cables as she made her way across; the Preventers were fiddling with what looked like two huge speakers. There were cables all over the roof, and two were bent over a laptop computer, working on something Relena couldn't see. Trowa and Wufei's conversation came into her hearing as she walked closer.  
  
"Where's the A-team stationed?" Asked Trowa, glancing at what was on the sheet before him.  
  
Wufei grunted. "Inside. Don't worry; Sally's heading them. No one is getting into that conference room but representatives."  
  
"And B-team?"  
  
"Emergency exits and gates. All of them were hand-picked by Une."  
  
"Which leave us to sky-watch." Trowa's tone had become almost musing. He stared at the diagram on the table before him--which Relena had now recognized as a blueprint of the entire building--almost pensively.  
  
"Why do you think they'll attack?" Trowa broke in, studying blueprint very thoroughly. Relena blinked and perked up. Maybe they _weren't _just going to discuss security measures all afternoon. Maybe she was actually going to find out what this was all about.  
  
Again, Wufei grunted. His tone was abstract; he was studying the blueprint as hard as Trowa was. "Every clue we've gotten leads to this. It's just too big of a target for them to miss."  
  
"If they do get in, though . . . " Trowa's voice trailed off in thought.  
  
"It's definitely an inside job." Wufei nodded in confirmation. Then he turned his head to one of the Preventers working with the cables and speakers. "Is that hooked up yet? The conference started five minutes ago!"  
  
"Nearly! Just a sec . . . " The questioned Preventer went back to fiddling with the cables. Relena eyed him. What were they doing, anyway? And _who _was going to attack and _why?_  
  
After a moment of silence, Trowa suddenly broke the silence. "_He _didn't come." His tone was off-hand, absent. But his eyes flickered to Wufei's face in momentary interest.  
  
Wufei paused and glanced up. He met Trowa's gaze for a long moment before sighing. "Damn guy won't be found." His gaze narrowed. "Une is about ready to lose her temper over it. She's always been able to find him if she needed to, but this time, he's just disappeared off the map."  
  
Trowa nodded, glancing down again at the diagram. By now, Relena was listening intently to the two. Again, Trowa spoke up, this time without raising his gaze, "We could've used his help."  
  
"I _know, _damn it. But it's like he doesn't care anymore." Wufei paused for a brief moment. Then he added, "He hasn't cared or responded at all since _she _decided to be a fool and--"  
  
"Wufei, we've got it hooked up." Interrupted the previously addressed Preventer. He stood in front of the speakers, questioningly. "Shall I start it?"  
  
Trowa had gone back to his work as if nothing had happened. Now, he had picked up a pencil and was circling certain spots on the blue-print. Wufei eyed the interruption irritably. "Jones, do you really have to ask?"  
  
The Preventer blinked. "Um . . . No, Sir. Starting the system." He glanced at the two who had been previously huddled over the laptop. They both nodded back, in confirmation of something. The Preventer, Jones, turned back to one of the speakers and flipped a switch.  
  
There was a pause, and static roared to life in the human-sized black boxes. That was all Relena could hear for a few seconds when suddenly, a loud whiney sound started up, growing louder and louder. It began to blare through the speakers and Relena recoiled, wincing. It sounded like nails on a chalk board.   
  
Jones quickly un-flipped the aforementioned switch. Slowly, everyone lowered their hands from covering their ears. Relena simply stared. There was a thin trail of smoke coming from one of the wires.  
  
Wufei suddenly spoke up from behind her, startling half of them. "Do _any _of you," And his tone was rather irritated, "have _any _knowledge of electronics what-so-ever?"   
  
Jones cleared his throat. "Sorry, sir. We'll get it fixed." He saluted smartly, then turned away, calling to two other Preventers. "Check those two wires! And you two, look at that . . ."  
  
As they waited for the Preventers to fix whatever had gone wrong, Wufei turned his back on the table, leaning back against it instead and crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze was on the sheepish Preventers, quickly checking cables and un-taping and re-taping different sections of electronic nonsense that Relena was confused to even look at.  
  
With Wufei's gaze on them, they seemed to work faster, if only to escape his penetrating black gaze. Relena sighed and sat down cross-legged on the cement roof. She wished the two pilots would start up that interesting conversation again-- she'd never really been an eavesdropper, by hey . . . what were ghosts for, anyway? It was weird, in a strange way . . . here she was, a fully grown woman, sitting cross-legged on a roof in nothing but a loose hospital gown surrounded by nothing but men, and she wasn't embarrassed at all. Dying did that to a person, she guessed.  
  
After a few long moments of silence, Wufei finally snapped, quietly, "_What_?"  
  
For an absurd moment, Relena thought he was addressing her. She blinked. Then she saw that Trowa had risen from his crouch and was staring, an amused light in his usually blank eyes, at Wufei's back.  
  
"I said nothing."  
  
"I know you've said nothing. That's what's so irritating. What _is _it?" Wufei turned around, now, and some of the Preventers breathed sighs of relief to see his gaze taken away.  
  
Trowa's gaze has returned to it's usual seriousness. "I think you're being too hard on her."  
  
Relena watched them with all of her attention. Were they talking about . . . her?  
  
Wufei shrugged as if unaffected. "She was a woman. That explains it." Relena narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
Trowa raised both eyebrows. "She's lead an entire country. She's stopped wars and has put her life in danger many times for another's sake. I wouldn't sell her so short."   
  
Relena stared at Trowa for a long moment, blinking. That had been the most words she'd ever heard him say at one time. It had even been a speech . . .sorta. Relena smiled at him, suddenly, wishing she had gotten to know the quieter pilot when she had been . . . alive. God, but it was weird to think of it that way. Weird to think that she was dead _now._  
  
"I'm not. Look at the Hell that has occurred after that one incident when she gave into her weakness." Wufei's voice went abruptly flat. "Weak people shouldn't lead countries."  
  
"She wasn't weak, Wufei."  
  
There was a long pause. Then, with an uncharacteristic sigh, Wufei glances away and mumbled, "I know."  
  
Trowa watched him for a long moment. When it was apparent Wufei would say no more on the matter, Trowa's eyes flickered back to the blue print. "What about this Western entrance? Is it covered?" He rested a finger on the spot.  
  
"We've got a man there." Wufei confirmed. "And sensor chips inside the doorway. We're alerted every time any door in this whole complex opens."  
  
"No, I meant the service entrance . . . here."  
  
Wufei paused. "We got guards on that quarter . . . but nothing specifically on that. It's just for delivery trucks."  
  
Trowa silently raised both eyebrows. Wufei frowned. "Barton, it's covered. The trucks all have to first come through a separate gate off to the side. We've got some of the B-team covering every gate. Then they have to have special clearance cards to open the garage there."  
  
Trowa said nothing. Finally, he nodded.   
  
"Sir?" Questioned Jones. "We've, ah . . . Definitely got it this time."  
  
Wufei nodded to them, turning to watch them. Jones paused, turning back to the switch. Relena prepared to cover her ears again, as did some of the rest of the Preventer team. Slowly, the switch was flipped.   
  
Again, static. But this time, no whiney sound began in warning. Instead, voices began to filter through the static. Relena eyed the speakers, fascinated.  
  
"We have visuals?" Wufei questioned.  
  
"Affirmative, Sir." At that, a screen slid down over what Relena had before assumed to be the other speaker. A picture slowly came into focus, revealing a man at a podium, his arms moving in passionate speech.  
  
Relena suddenly grinned. Looks like she wasn't going to miss the conference after all.  
  
***********  
  
_Notes: End Chapter Five . . .Whee! I got it done. ^_^ How was it? Anything I need to improve? What did you like? Anywho . . . Yes, Heero -will- eventually be making an appearance . . . but first, what great event has Relena's attempted suicide sparked? What has Lady Une and the pilots so concerned . . . and what is the huge conference about? Maybe that'll all be answered in the next chapter. ^_^ Bye for now!_  
  



	6. A New Threat Revealed

**_Chapter 6_**

  
  
  
_" . . . To stop this crisis. As you all know, certain events have lead to new tensions among the colonies and earth . . ." _

Relena sat comfortably, cross-legged before the large viewing screen, listening to Ambassador Lochley give his speech. The other Preventers on the roof had mostly left, after they had gotten the equipment to work. Wufei and Trowa had put the blueprint away. They now sat in two folding chairs in almost identical poses, (Legs crossed, on arm resting on a chair arm while the other rested in his lap) watching the Preventers, the screen, and the skies, apparently all at the same time, which was only possible at all when you were a former Gundam Pilot, Relena supposed. They weren't too interested in the screen and the delegates behind it, though, and neither were the other handful of Preventers that were continually scouting out the enormous roof. Relena seemed to be the only true audience of the conference who's seat was on the roof, which made sense, as she was the only politician.   
  
She was not liking what she was hearing.   
  
_"It is my opinion that we cut communication from the L4 sector immediately, until this . . . mess can be sorted out."_   
  
Relena made a sound deep in her throat. "Idiot! That will just let them keep doing . . . whatever they're doing, and us without an eye or ear on them!" She looked up at the sky for a moment, almost pleadingly. Had all the delegates lost their minds since she had become a ghost? She had not heard one single helpful idea since the screen had started working.   
  
To top her frustration off, she _still _wasn't sure what in earth and space was going on. Some trouble with the L4 sector--Some _great _trouble-- that was creating new problems between the Earth and the Colonies. But what else was new? There were _always_ tensions between the two powers, but most were minor and easily solved. The worst case in her memory was when an L3 representative had socked Senator Grisham in the nose, starting immediate animosity between those two families, and friends of the two families, etc. That, though, had eventually been explained when it was found out that Senator Grisham had been having certain secret . . . relations . . . with the representative's sister.   
  
Sometimes, politicians could really get on her nerves.   
  
Her attention was returned to the screen when polite clapping announced Ambassador Lochley's exit from the podium. She bit her lip, hoping that relations would not be cut and Lochley's ideas would not be followed. That was far too drastic a move, and could only lead to disaster. Part of her wished more than anything that she was at that conference; if only to stop the more ridiculous ideas dead in their tracks. Sometimes she felt like she was a mother of all of them, having to gently push them into the ways they should have already be going in, had they used any sort of common sense. Yet also, sometimes she felt like the little sister, running along behind the older politicians, not truly belonging in their play. She had felt that feeling more and more recently, telling her that perhaps she didn't belong with the 50 or 60 aged men who talked of things which she understood, but had no true interest in.   
  
_Just because one is talented in something, it does not mean they are always happy doing it. _   
  
Relena blinked when she saw Quatre take the podium. Since becoming involved in politics himself, he had always been a sort of ally to her. She smiled slightly. _I know _you_ won't let me down, Quatre._   
  
He looked serious-- very serious. Usually his kind heart and easy smile would warm and ease the room when he had to speak. Now, though, he only looked tired and withdrawn-- too much like some of the older politicians would were very close to retiring. Relena's relieved smile faded into a frown. Then, her friend began his speech, for a moment regaining his usual energy.   
  
_"Tragedy can strike without a moment's notice." _He was calm, collected. _"Without even a second's notice. None of us were ready for what has happened, but all we can do now is _become _ready._   
  
_"They have surprised us. Apparently, the group behind this crisis was much more effected than everyone else at Ms. Relena Dorlain's . . . tragedy." _His eyes closed briefly, painfully. Relena felt a stab of guilt. Quickly, though, Quatre continued. _"Instead, they took the chance too begin to work towards their own goal. By the time our eyes were finally turned to that quarter . . . it was too late. They had already begun to amass power and followers, also creating what, if we let get out into the public, could cause great . . . suffering." _Again, Quatre paused. Retrieving a handkerchief from his suit pocket, he gently dabbed at his forehead. He looked to be catching his breath.   
  
Relena's breath caught in her throat, when something seemed to click in her mind. Something was wrong with Quatre. Something was very wrong.   
  
_" . . . Excuse me. As I was saying, we must find out exactly who is behind this . . . " _Again, a sight pause, a slight need to catch his breath. _" . . .We must find out how exactly this group . . . this organization plans to market their . . . product to the public. We cannot . . . let them get away with this, yet at the same time . . . cannot give into their demands." _Another pause for breath. Another dab at his temple. Relena bit her lip; Quatre was gripping at the podium with more strength than was necessary.   
  
Sensing movement behind her, Relena turned her head. Wufei and Trowa had suddenly become far more interested in the screen. They shared a brief look; Trowa frowned, a brief downward twitch of his lips, and Wufei had a brief, confused look on his face. "How was he infected so quickly?" Wufei asked quietly, with a touch of what Relena was surprised to recognize as slight panic. Wufei shook his head and with sudden urgency he twisted in his seat, reaching down to grab a walkie-talkie, quickly turning a knob.   
  
"A-team? This is C-Leader. Do you copy?"   
  
Static.   
  
A little more forceful, now. "A-team. This is C Leader. Do you copy?"   
  
Static. Then, a slightly accented voice. _"Hello. I hope you have already realized what's happening. This is warning number 2. Unfortunately, Quatre Winner . . . loses."_ Relena stared. Wufei looked about ready to kill.   
  
"Who is this?"   
  
_"Over and out . . . C-Leader."_ There was more than a twinge of sarcasm. Then, more static.   
  
"FUCK!" Wufei drew his hand back and looked about to pitch the walkie-talkie over the side of the building. Trowa, moving quickly, grabbed the device out of Wufei's hands even though Wufei's arm continued it's heave.   
  
Trowa, very much calmer, took over. "B-team, come in. Do you copy?"   
  
_" . . . This is B-team. West Gate, to be exact. We copy . . ."_ The voice sounded confused. _"What's wrong?"_   
  
There was a clattering sound from the speakers. Relena spun around, eyes wide. Then she gasped, leaping up from her position. "Quatre!"   
  
Quatre had fallen over, and he now lay, apparently unconscious, behind the podium. At least, Relena hoped to God it was just unconsciousness. Anyone nearby had rushed to the scene. Lady Une materialized by his side, and was calling for someone to phone an ambulance.   
  
Trowa was still watching the screen. Then, he closed his eyes, very slowly. When he spoke, it was with his usual calm deliberation. "Where was the breech in admission?"   
  
_" . . .What?"_   
  
No hesitation. "Which part of B-team isn't responding?"   
  
_"Everything is fine. There's no problems--"_   
  
"Which. Part?" Trowa had a way of sounding even more deadly then Wufei, when he wanted to.   
  
There was a long pause. Then, _" . . . About a minute ago, we discovered that was had lost contact with the men at the service entrance." _A pause . _"But only for a moment. Nothing has gone by that way, judging from the cameras . . ."_   
  
Wordlessly, Trowa handed back the communicator to Wufei. Then he turned and began towards the fire escape.   
  
Wufei glared at the walkie-talkie for a long moment (the man on the other end still seemed to be talking) before he looked up to realize Trowa was leaving.   
  
"Where are you going?" He demanded.   
  
Trowa didn't even pause. "To help. You get to clean this one up."   
  
Wufei now glared at Trowa's back. "You realize that they're going to blame the Preventers for this."   
  
"Yep." Trowa disappeared over the edge, never looking back.   
  
"Fuck." Wufei breathed, again. This time, he did throw the walkie-talkie against the cement of the rooftop, where it promptly split into two separate parts. He looked up again, meeting the bewildered gaze of the handful of Preventers still on the roof. His glare made them all immediately wince.   
  
"Clean all this hardware up. Now! Rendezvous at the base." He spent a few minutes-- very long minutes, as Relena has been to slow in following Trowa and so had no way off of the top of the building until someone else decided to leave--looking things over and directing the others. Then he, too, stalked off towards the fire escape.   
  
Not about to be left behind, Relena hopped up and followed Wufei down the metal staircases, returning into the darkened hallway through the same door. Wufei was furious. His stalking steps certainly showed that to be true. He was moving so fast down the dark hallway that Relena had to jog slightly in order to keep up.   
  
They were about halfway down the hallway when Relena noticed something out of the corner of her eye. One of the doors, just to her left, was ajar. This wouldn't have caught her attention if it weren't for the fact that _none _ of the doors had been open before; there had been at least a dozen leading off from that hallway and every one had been shut and locked tight, save the one leading to the fire escape. And even with that, Relena still wouldn't have noticed anything if she hadn't seen the flicker of a broken glass shard just a few steps away from the ajar door.   
  
She paused, even though Wufei continued his stomping down the hallway, occasionally muttering to himself. She eyed his back, hissing, "_Wufei!_"though knowing full well he wouldn't answer, and he didn't, too caught up in his own muttering to notice the plea of the ghost of the former Queen of the World.   
  
Well. This was just wonderful.   
  
Curiosity killed the cat, of course, but then again Relena had always been more of a dog person. Still, why _was _ a door open when it hadn't been before, anyway? She intended to find out. She eyed the opening for a moment, tested pushing at the door a little to see if it would budge at all--it wouldn't--and then decided to hell with it and threw herself at the tiny opening, sideways, with all the leverage she could get from the hall. This resulted in Relena affectively wedging herself tightly in the space, unable to escape either way.   
  
There was an intense, brief battle with the door and wall, but after a moment Relena came out on top, popping through the opening and landing on the other side in an ungraceful heap.   
  
_I wish I had cut down on chili dogs before I died, _She thought, though she grinned in triumph as she glanced back at the door. _So there. Hah!_   
  
She stood and stuck her tongue out at the offending doorway, as if to get one last hit in, and dusted herself off--although ghosts didn't really collect dust, she noted. She was seriously considering indulging herself in a ghost-victory-dance, though her thoughts were cut short as she heard muffled sounds coming from an open doorway.   
  
Raising an eyebrow, she started towards that opening--which thankfully was much wider--absently eyeing the dark room around her. There were metal cases of drawers, and a desk in that corner, a large copying machine, as well as a few other heavy-duty office things. It was too small for an office. A workroom, perhaps? With an adjoining room. Or something.   
  
The adjoining room looked like a small kitchen, actually, Relena noticed as she stepped through the opening. This room was a little lighter as it actually had a window, though high up and small. It even had a little U-shaped counter of some sort-- and behind this, the voices became clear.   
  
"Idiot!" Hissed a voice, accented softly. "I can't believe you _broke _it! Falcon will have your _head _over this one!"   
  
"No one saw it! And it wasn't dangerous, anyway. Winner had already been infected by it."   
  
Tiptoeing to the counter, she carefully reached over and tried to peer over into the little space. Yes, it _was _ absurd for her to be worrying about being spotted--as it was physically impossible for anyone to notice her--but she didn't like what these people seemed to be talking about. Actually, she was pretty sure she didn't like these people period. She was too short to see very much this way, however, and so with a grunt heaved herself onto the top of the counter, and then leaned over the side again.   
  
A man and a woman were talking in hushed voices, the woman apparently being berated by the man. She had long, brown hair that was up in a pony tail, while the man had blond, greased-back hair and a mustache. Relena's couldn't see very much beyond that, and so couldn't guess an age for either, but judging by their voices they were both full adults.   
  
"That doesn't mean _we _can't still get infected, you numbskull! Or anyone that happens to walk by and get attacked by the virus!"   
  
"I cleaned it up after the first Preventer left!" Snapped the brunette. "It's fine!"   
  
"You got _all _ of the glass?"   
  
"Yes! Every bit, damn it!"   
  
"I sure as bloody hell hope so."   
  
"As it is, at least we're vaccinated . . ."   
  
"As it is, you're still going to get skinned alive."   
  
"Oh, shut up already!"   
  
"If the Preventers found it . . . if the police found it . . . hell, if a lousy _politician _ happened to walk by and noticed a pretty speck of glass, our organization's goal would be severely in jeopardy!"   
  
_Actually, _though Relena, slightly amused, _This politician happens to be a ghost, so . . ._   
  
"The White Doves will succeed in our mission." Muttered the women, with surprising passion. She stood, glaring down at the man, and startling Relena so much that she nearly toppled over. "I would think you, at least, would have faith."   
  
"I _do _ have faith." The other man stood slightly, grabbing at the woman's arm and trying to drag her down again, glancing around warily, although she stubbornly refused to take cover. Finally, he gave up, sighing softly. "Calm down, Serenity. It's just . . . you _know _ how important this was. If we had botched it up . . ."   
  
Some of the fire went out of the brunette. "I know. I know. I'm sorry. I saw the fire escape open, and darted inside without thinking. It won't happen again."   
  
"Good." Murmured the man, nodding. "In any case, once the World leaders realize our true cause . . . once they accept it . . . the world will be in better shape."   
  
She nodded.   
  
There was a pause, and then the man murmured, "I think the coast is clear now. We should take the chance to get out of here while we have it."   
  
Another nod. Then the man grabbed a hat from underneath the counter, pulling it on so that the rim lowered slightly over his eyes. The man stepped out from behind the counter, followed by Serenity. Relena, this time, did slip off the counter-- in shock. She hadn't realized it before, but now, with them both in the light of the window, a fact blared through her conscious, leaving her frozen on the floor in shock.   
  
The man wore a truck driver's uniform. But what was more-- what had Relena staring with eyes like China saucers licked clean-- was that the woman wore a Preventer's uniform. A _real _ Preventers uniform. Which meant one of two things-- either she had killed someone and stolen it, or she really was a Preventer. Relena wasn't quite sure which would be worse, though the uniform fit her form well, to Relena's chagrin.   
  
They started off, and it took a moment for Relena to realize that they would probably shut the door behind them, thus leaving her trapped here. Eeping, she was instantly standing and within a few feet of them. They reached the doorway and the man cautiously peered around the edge before deeming it safe and motioning the woman ahead. She moved forward, passing through the opening and then walking swiftly yet silently down the hall. Relena tried to follow, but the door was rudely pushed shut again in her face. She pulled back, wrinkling her nose at the man, wondering what he was doing. His hand was still on the doorknob, though, and he seemed was murmuring something under his breath. Relena frowned and cocked her head at him, then she realized-- he was _counting. _Then, without warning, he jerked the door open again. Since Relena was closer, she managed to make it out before he did-- which was a good thing, as he closed the door very carefully behind him.   
  
Relena fidgeted. Would he notice the bit of glass? She hoped not. Whatever it was, it seemed very important to these people that the Preventers not find it, and so Relena wished wholeheartedly that the Preventers _would _find it.   
  
Unfortunately, though, his gaze was flickering all across the rough carpeting, searching. Eventually his eyes did find the glass that had caught Relena's eye earlier. She sighed with regret as he picked it up, depositing the bit in a small plastic bag he withdrew from his pocket. Replacing the plastic bag, he strode off a different way down the hall, exiting through a different door.   
  
Relena could've growled in frustration. If only there was some way to _tell_ someone!   
  
Right now, though, she was alone in a dark hallway, so she sighed and made her way back to the main entrance. The conference was over, but maybe she could still listen to some of the groups of people that were bound to be around the ambulance Une had ordered for Quatre, and perhaps overhear needed gossip.   
  
_Or_, she thought, a few moments after she had stepped outside, as she noticed a very familiar vehicle into the chaos of police, Preventers, and ambulances-- _I could just take the bus._   
  
  
  
**********   
  
_Notes: This may be a little shorter than usual, but I had to stop the chapter there. ^_^ I have the ending chapter all planned out, though, for which I am very grateful-- although planning it out in my head has made me realize how far away from it I am in the story right now. ^_^;; But, that's okay, right? Right! Anyway, reviews are what really makes an author work hard to finish a story, so . . . well, hint, hint. ^_^_   
  
_Randomly, does anyone else play Star Fox? This may sound dorky, but I have a Game Cube and have become addicted to Star Fox Adventures, even though I've already beaten the game. I just love the storyline, even though Krystal didn't get any of her mysteries solved-- anyway, I'm going to stop rambling now. ^_^; Chapter seven will come around eventually!_


	7. Reluctant Meetings

**A Final Solution  
Chapter 7**

****

The doors swung shut behind her, and Relena moved to take her accustomed seat. She bit her lip, saying nothing to the driver, worrying about Quatre and those two people and everything else that seemed to be spinning out of control . . . How she wished there was just _some _way to tell the Preventers what she had seen! Well . . . a Preventer she trusted, anyway. It seemed almost unfathomable that the organization could have any spies, but judging from what she had seen . . .  
  
Sighing, Relena leaned back, growing frustrated. Worry was Hell when there was nothing you could do about it. She wished so much that whatever point there was to all of this, she would learn it and move on already . . .   
  
The bus drove along whatever random road it chose to be on (she had long since noticed that the bus obeyed no natural laws whatsoever) and after a while Relena opened her eyes again, staring dismally at nothing. She didn't understand. Obviously, the whole point of this escapade was not just to make her feel guilty-- she had felt that for a while now, and yet it still didn't even seem close to being over.   
  
Relena twisted her head backwards, sitting up a little in her seat to see to the back of the bus. There were four passengers back there, now-- one of them was the same small boy she had seen every time she came on this bus, but the other three were unknown to her; two males (one rather old) and one female. The bus seemed far too silent . . .   
  
Relena frowned at the small little boy. He was in the same position she had last seen him in, even-- same seat, same clothes. Turning back to the driver, she asked quietly, "Why is he here?" He just seemed too young to look so miserable . . .  
  
"He has the longest trip," The bus driver said softly, the same thing she had said before, when Relena had taken notice of him. Frowning, Relena opened her mouth to ask another question, but was shushed immediately by a, "No talking to the bus driver" from the lady.   
  
Sighing, Relena sat back and pursed her lips. Would she ever understand what was going on?  
  
A feeling of deceleration suddenly came over her, and she straitened, blinking. Slowly the bus came to a stop and the doors opened. Instead of anyone getting off, though, a young woman stepped on, eyes wide and afraid. Relena blinked at her; the woman looked to be about Relena's own age. She wore a white blouse and shirt, with honey blonde hair reaching almost to her shoulders.  
  
"Bad trip, Dear?" The driver asked kindly. The lady glanced at her, and suddenly her face seemed to crumple. She sat down in the seat across from Relena, covered her eyes and began to sob. The driver simply shook her head and started the bus, and quickly they were rumbling off again.  
  
Relena could not stop staring at the woman just across from her, hunched over and sobbing as if her world had just come to an end.  
  
After a while, the woman finally looked up, sniffling loudly and trying to wipe the tears from her face, roughly. She stopped and froze when she noticed Relena's stare, which immediately caused the former politician to blush and glance away quickly. No one else on the bus had ever actually _noticed _her before . . .  
  
Sobs dying down, Relena saw the woman continue to try and collect herself, a bit more quietly. It startled her when after a moment the woman spoke.  
  
"You're new, aren't you?"   
  
Relena blinked and spun to face her again. She was wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief she had gotten somewhere, but she stared directly back at Relena, seriously.  
  
Relena cleared her throat and glanced at the bus driver, who had given no notice of the sounds of talking. Unused to it, but hoping it was okay to talk to the other passengers, she replied quietly, "I guess."  
  
The woman nodded. She blew her noise and put the handkerchief away, sniffling once more and pulling a golden strand of hair behind her ear. "It's hard, isn't it? I think I'm almost done."  
  
Suddenly a bit more awake, Relena straitened, eyes widening. "You are? Can you please tell me what this is all about? What happens? What's the point?"  
  
The woman managed a small smile, though her eyes were still a bit red. "You'll understand in no-time." She closed her eyes, glancing down. "And by the end you'll wish more than anything you could get another chance . . . "  
  
Relena frowned. "But . . . "  
  
The woman shook her head silently. "Part of the procedure is figuring it out for yourself."   
  
Relena sighed and sat back again, irritated. She didn't want to figure it out for herself! She just wanted to go home!  
  
"My name is . . .was . . . Chelsea Tomaren." When Relena looked up, she saw that the lady was offering her a hand to shake. Relena sat up, taking it.   
  
"I'm Relena. Dorlain." The last was a bit belated; she felt somewhat ashamed admitting her true name to this lady whom she hardly knew.  
  
The woman's eyes widened. " . . Dorlain . . .?" She asked quietly, obviously amazed. "I _thought _you looked familiar . . . But you're one of the last people I expected to be _here . . ."  
  
"Uh . . .yeah . . ." Relena murmured awkwardly, pulling her hand back. Not quite sure what to say and feeling strangely ashamed, she was very relieved when the bus pulled to a stop. She barely waited for the driver to announce it was Relena's stop before standing up, moving quickly to the doors.  
  
"Good luck," Chelsea called after her, and Relena nodded, hopping out without looking back.  
  
The bus rumbled off quickly behind her, kicking up a large trail of dust as it went. Wincing, Relena covered her mouth and began to cough instinctively. Gods, this place was _filthy._ It was some dark, bad place of a town that obviously lay on the wrong side of the tracks. The houses that lay in jumbled clumps around the blocks looked more like broken down shacks, some of which made Relena wonder how they were still standing. A group of teenage boys in black jackets and chains lounged in a tight clump near on corner before her, chatting calmly. A cat screeched off to her right, making Relena jerk around in startlement. The roads seemed to be broken and badly hanging on, and she saw a pot-bellied man relaxing in a broken lawn chair on his front porch to her left, sipping a beer and eyeing the group of boys distrustfully.  
  
This was definitely not any place she would've gone to in life. Even as a ghost she felt a bit uneasy, eyeing the group of teenagers that had so far not noticed her. She shivered, not from the temperature that she couldn't feel, but from a dark chill that wormed her way up her spine. Definitely not a nice place. Who in the world would ever want to live here, anyway?  
  
A 7-11 lay across the street, opposite the corner of the teenage boys. Being it was the only true illumination of the intersection, Relena quickly headed towards it. On her way, she passed under a sign which stated in bold letters, _

NO LOITERING  
Violators will be persecuted 

The sign was badly graffitied, to where it was almost hard to read the words. Hunching up her shoulders, Relena quickly walked up to the store, relieved to find that the door was open. She stepped inside, relieved a little at the bright light. She wasn't sure what this trip was meant to produce, but figured that it was already her worst so far . . .  
  
The man behind the counter didn't even so much as look up. He was writing something down, distracted. Hearing a sound down the isle to her right, Relena turned, spotting the only other customer in the store.  
  
IA mess of brown hair . . . /I  
  
Recoiling, Relena backed up all the way to the counter, suddenly terrified. Oh, no. No! She didn't want to do this! No way in Hell!  
  
Turning, she quickly made way for the exit. Who cared if this went against whatever plan had been made for her? She wasn't doing this, not here, not now. No way.  
  
She stopped dead as one of the teenagers from before stepped inside, inconveniently blocking her way. She moved to the side, about to go around him, when two more of his buddies stepped through. All three moved deeper into the store, sidling along different isles. A forth teenager stopped right in the doorway, glanced around calmly, and then leaned back against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest nonchalantly.   
  
Relena glared at him helplessly. He was blocking her escape, Damn it! She spun, lips pursed tightly together, hoping there would be some back exit. She took all of two steps when the source of her immediate frustrations appeared out of an isle before her nonchalantly, making her stop dead before she ran into him.   
  
He turned his head towards the entrance once he reached the counter, placing two items on it calmly and without looking. He briefly studied the boy blocking the doorway, raising one eyebrow a hair of a fraction.  
  
ICobalt blue eyes . . . /I 

A lump rose in her throat, and Relena found she could not tear her eyes away. She would give anything to be able to run away, at that moment . . . anything but be forced to stare into the deep blue gaze of someone who didn't see her, someone who had never really seen her . . . 

Heero turned his head back to the man behind the counter, who was trying to eye all four black-coats-and-chains boys at the same time, distrustfully. Relena, however, found that she had suddenly been rooted to the spot, unable to so much as turn her gaze away. 

Finding that he had a customer, the man refocused his attention on Heero, clearing his throat and quickly ringing up the items-- Chips and a coke. Heero paid silently and then received the bag the man handed to him the same way, turning towards the exit. His gaze brushed right by her without feeling her, though Relena felt him-- far too acutely. The lump in her throat grew.  
  
Who would love to torture someone with this, like this? Who? This wasn't fair!  
  
Heero paused calmly , facing the boy in the doorway, asking--without saying anything-- for him to move. The boy raised and eyebrow calmly, arrogantly.  
  
"Oh no . . .I don't think so. There ain't nobody leaving 'til we says so."  
  
The man behind the counter straitened. "If you boys are going to _buy anything, I suggest doing so. But if you harass my other customers, I'm going to call the--"  
  
"You ain't calling nobody, Pops." Said one of the other boys, who had come up silently to stand in front of the counter. "Nobody is."  
  
The other two boys had stepped forward, and they now framed a triangle around the counter. The man was beginning to look very nervous. Heero still hadn't moved.  
  
"Now, listen here, you punks--"  
  
The boy who stood at the point of the triangle laughed as though the man had just said something uproariously funny. " 'Scuse me? You talkin' ta us?" He had wild black hair, long, pulled back into a low ponytail. The other boys chuckled. Carefully, calmly, the one with the wild hair opened his coat, pulling out a very deadly-looking silver gun. The man behind the counter quickly clicked his mouth shut, eyes widening.  
  
"Ya see . . . we's the ones givin' the orders 'round here." The boy's eyes narrowed dangerously now, not laughing. He raised his arm, pointing the weapon directly at the poor man.  
  
"Actually . . . you're not."  
  
This new voice came in a calm, deep monotone that Relena still heard in her dreams . . . her gaze swung to Heero, who for all the world looked like he was relaxing at a park on a Sunday morning.  
  
One of the other boys, the nearest to Heero, shook his head. "You just be silent and don't move. This is between us," he jerked his thumb to the man behind the counter, "and Pops over there."  
  
"Yeah," stated the one with the mess of black hair, motioning with the gun. "Now open them drawers for us, will ya?"  
  
Heero glanced toward the one with a gun, gaze becoming very intent and focused. "Don't."  
  
"What did you say?" The one with a gun swung around a bit to face him, disbelievingly. "You jus' stay the Hell outta this . . ."  
  
_Heero!_ Relena thought, silently. _What are you doing? Stop it! You're going to get yourself killed!_ _

Heero, apparently, didn't give a damn. "I am not in a good mood right now. Put down the gun."  
  
After a startled moment of silence, the boy began to laugh-- although a bit nervously. He turned his head to face his comrades, raising both eyebrows. "You hearin' this guy? I think he might needa be taught a lesson . . ."  
  
While his head was turned, Heero suddenly moved forward, so fast he was almost a blur. The boy spun around, again startled, but Heero simply threw his bag at the boy in the middle of his lunge. Confused, slow, the boy instinctively moved to grab it, and in that moment-- that moment of grabbing instead of shooting-- Heero had his hand around the boy's wrist and was swinging it hard against the counter, the muscles of his arms tensed and coiled. The boy let out a sharp cry of pain, and the gun dropped, landing on the floor.  
  
"I told you," Heero murmured in a quietly dark voice, "I am having a bad day. Week, actually. Now get the Hell out of here."  
  
He released the boy's hand, who quickly took a few steps back. His gaze swung to where the gun had fallen, but before he could do anything, Heero drew his foot back and kicked the silver weapon far away, sending it skidding into the candy isle.  
  
"Get. Out." He ordered in that same, dark voice, one which any sane man would run away from. The boys hesitated for barely a moment before quickly exiting, with Heero's gaze following them the entire way. They moved quickly, disappearing around the block, and after a moment Relena heard the squeal of tires moving away.  
  
"You got a date with death or something?" Asked the counter man shakily, staring at Heero as if he were some creature no one had ever heard of before. 

Relena was in shocked silence. 

Heero glanced at him emotionlessly, stooping to pick up his bag where it had fallen on the ground. His eyes traveled downward, after the path the gun had taken when he had kicked it away. Rising again, turning away, Heero murmured simply, "The safety was still on."   
  
He walked out, not pausing to look back. The man behind the counter seemed to be in shock, but just as Heero disappeared into the night, he seemed to take hold of himself. "Wait!" He called after. There was no response, so he simply glanced down. "Thank you."  
  
There was no way to tell if Heero had even heard. 

Relena wondered if she could get away with not following him. But it was so blaringly obvious that she was meant to . . . what in the world could following Heero prove? That there was one person in the world who was no worse for the wear after her . . . disappearance?  
  
Then she wondered how she ever hoped to get out of her situation if she didn't follow whatever . . . I_they_/I . . . had planned.  
  
Running her hand through her hair in helplessness, she turned and walking out of the small store, glancing both ways up and down the street. A small motion of a moving shadow caught her eye, and, taking in a deep breath for strength, she started after it. To say she was reluctant to do so would be an understatement-- but her want to be relieved of this ghost-life out-reached her reluctance to see him, however slightly. She had to jog a little to catch up to him, a shadow of a person that she technically barely knew, yet felt she had known all her life. 

She watched him silently, trying to match his languid-seeming fast pace, watching how his gaze never flickered or even moved from the path in front of him. He was as emotionless and unreachable as he was in real life, ironically. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or be hurt by that.  
  
"Hi, Heero." She murmured quietly. Funny. It was just as hard to talk to him, now, here, where he really couldn't hear her. She supposed that was because he had never really heard her at all. Even that day no-so-long-ago, when she had stood before him, in all her still-naïveté, opening herself to him like an idiot, as if that could ever change him . . .  
  
"I wouldn't've come if I'd had a choice." She wasn't sure why she was talking, only that saying those first few words seemed to have unlocked some sort of barrier she had erected, leaving pent-up emotions pouring free. "Just wanted you to know that. I'm not following you because I want to. They . . .whoever they are . . . are making me." She paused, if briefly. "I know how much you hated it when I followed you around during and after the wars . . ." Another pause. "Sorry." 

She swallowed, looking away. Heero, of course, didn't give any sign that he noticed her presence.   
  
Figured.  
  
"It's been a while . . ." She hesitated, and cleared her throat, correcting herself. "Well, not a while, technically. Just . .. long, in my mind . . . " She glanced away. "I bet it's been a relief for you, not having to deal with me. Was that why you ran away? You knew how much I hurt and you couldn't bear dealing with me anymore?" She chuckled dryly, without mirth. Then, "I should've just kept my mouth shut." Her tone was soft. "I should've never come looking for you. I should've . . ."  
  
She trailed off and he turned suddenly into a driveway, leading up to a cheap-looking apartment building. She glanced down at the ground, though still continued to faithfully follow him, wondering what the point was. It would be so much easier if she could just figure out what they wanted from her!  
  
She followed him through the nearly-empty parking lot and to his door. He fished out the keys from his pocket mechanically, his movement and eyes lacking the brief intenseness they had shown when confronting that boy with the gun-- that same intenseness that she had come to expect from him. It was strange, seeing him without it. 

She followed him inside. Closing the door behind him, Heero threw his purchase with sudden, frustrated force at a very shabby-looking couch, startling Relena. His apartment was shabby and untidy, with clothes strewn about carelessly and Chinese food containers laying open on a small, tilted table. Dirty dishes were piled in the small sink, and the stove and counters looked like they hadn't been wiped off in ages. The bed was unmade. A small desk with a laptop computer that glowed faintly was heaped with papers, and the only other piece of furniture-- the small two-person couch-- was torn and stained. 

Relena turned again to face Heero, bewildered. Of all the time she'd known him and of all she knew about him, one thing she knew he certainly was not was a slob. He could be a jerk, careless, callous, misleading,--certainly unexpected--, brutal, blunt-- but never a slob. She wondered if he wasn't staying with someone else, but the small one-room apartment had only one bed and seemed small enough for one person, as it was. 

Heero had moved to the middle of the small room, where he now stood, fist clenched at his sides. Turned away from her and staring at nothing, he murmured, "The safety was still on." His tone had a very strange quality to it, and a longing that Relena felt was very misplaced. 

She stared at him, quite a bit in shock . . . the same continued shock that she had been in since running into him.  
  
He glanced once at the computer, noting what was on the screen for only a moment. It was a bunch of blue-lettering that made no sense to Relena, and seemed to be working on it's own, every now and then coming up with a new set of numbers and letters which sent the page scrolling upward a bit.  
  
Evidently finding nothing of interest, Heero simply sank onto the small couch, not bothering to shift aside the mess of things that cluttered it. He leaned back, letting his eyes fall closed. His hair-- which was a touch more untidy then usual- seemed to have grown a bit longer, and it covered more of his features than Relena remembered.  
  
A shudder abruptly ran though him, and he clenched his fist at his side, putting slow pressure into the cushion beneath him. Every muscle in his body seemed to be tensed up, and he looked like he was struggling with something internally.  
  
"Damn it . . ."  
  
And as suddenly as that, all of his muscles relaxed, and he leaned forward into a hunched position. He rested his elbows on his knees, putting his head in his hands.  
  
"I am such an idiot," he groaned into his hands, the sound somewhat muffled, looking for all the world as if he could sit there for the rest of his life and never move again. 

It was such a display of weakness that Relena had never seen from him, and it caught her off-guard. Relena watched him for a long moment, feeling the lump in her throat rise up again. Why did she feel sympathetic towards him? Worried, even? What was wrong with her? Pursing her lips, she tried to cover it up with anger at him. But it was hard. She had always been a person ruled by her emotions. 

"Damn it, Heero," She muttered, staring at him, surprised at the pressure that was springing up behind her eyes. Could ghosts cry? "You _are_ an idiot!" She sank down onto the chair nearest to her, closing her eyes tightly as if in pain. "You idiot," she repeated, not being able to bear looking at him anymore. He had no right to . . .to . . . "Why did you have to say the things you said? Why couldn't you have just said no?" A barely-caught sob tried to force it's way past her lips. She grit her teeth in determination. Even as a ghost, she refused to cry in front of him! "You heartless bastard . . . " She whispered softly, letting her head fall into her hands. Her wrists seemed to throb even more strongly at the pressure, though she ignored that. "Like you never knew how I felt . . . you idiot." She hesitated just a moment, swallowing another sob. "But . . .not as much an idiot as me."  
  
She raised her head slightly, scrubbing at her eyes furiously, refusing to cry. Not here, not now, damn it! "Not as much an idiot as me." She drew in a shaky breath-- or at least, seemed to . . . she wasn't sure if she was really breathing-- and opened her eyes again, staring at the man who had collapsed on the couch. Why did she still feel for him? Couldn't even death give her a break from that heart-wrenching pain he had delivered unto her?  
  
"I still love you, don't I?" She asked the air softly, voice breaking midway through. She closed her eyes again, tightly, as if trying to deny that fact.  
  
Then she repeated, "Not as much an idiot as me." 

******* 

_**Author's notes:** *Looks about, innocently* Aren't I just an evil little devil? ^_^ *Hides* I know, I know . . . I swear, there's a very good reason Relena is very upset with Heero. ^_^; And at least the person who I originally intended to be the main supporting character has arrived . . . as promised. *Beam* Next chapter . . . perhaps you'll find out what happened between these two. Or perhaps more on the organization known as the White Doves will surface . . . Perhaps you'll all learn how Quatre's doing, or maybe even be shown what Relena's little lesson-to-be-learned is. Or . . . maybe not. ^_^ You never know, and I've given up trying to predict how this story goes . . . Hope you enjoyed! Reviews are -very- much appreciated!_


	8. Unwanted Intrusions

**A Final Solution**

**Chapter Eight**

She wasn't quite aware of how long she sat there in silent tears. Even if she had the strength to leave, the door was shut, and the only window Relena saw was tiny and barred. No, she was stuck here, a prisoner bound to her fate. She was stuck in the same room with the one man she would give anything to forget. All she could think to do was sob; sob and hope she would find escape soon. It was disheartening, to continue to be tortured into death. Especially when she had previously thought it was the only way out.

Eventually, though, her ghostly tears ran out. Eventually, she straightened, only to find Heero had not moved at all from his former position. Head tilted back against the wall, reclining on the battered and cluttered couch, Relena could almost think him asleep. But, no. Just as if they were connected even now, his head lifted forward almost right after she had looked up. He stared at the far wall for a minute, then stood, walking slowly but steadily to his laptop computer, which had been diligently giving the room its only source of light for a while now, in steady blue flickers.

She couldn't help but to watch him. Besides the messy apartment which didn't seem to suit him, despite the hopelessness she had caught in his eyes, he still seemed the same. Strong, steady, determined . . . single-minded. It looked, still, like he walked a sharp edge between life and death, never fearing and yet never giving in to either side. There was still death in his eyes, but instead of the usual threat of it, as Relena had known his gaze, it was now only there as a habit, almost; it resided still because of Heero's simple acceptance of it.

Though she would never admit it, though she knew with all her heart it was true, she had missed him. Terribly. His presence, his sense of rock-iron strength and security: she dearly missed it, even if he seemed unconscious of it himself.

After a moment, he took to typing on the laptop's keyboard; the gentle tip-tap of his fingers filled the room, and Relena closed her eyes, remembering for just a moment. Time passed slowly. Relena stood, and, since she had nothing better to do, and in an attempt to get her mind off the very commanding persona of the man in the corner, walked around the room and surveyed the different parts of it. There was little more to see than she already had seen, though.

She wondered how Quatre was doing, longing to go and see him. She wondered how the Preventers were holding up in their investigation. She wondered who the White Doves were, and what their purpose was in all of this. She wondered and wondered, to no avail. As keen a mind as she might possess, without answers, there was little she could do but speculate. And, with the little information she did have, she speculated poorly. What did she know? One, The White Doves were, no doubt, a terrorist group. Two, they had some sort of virus which they were using to threaten the community. Three, the threat was great enough for politicians to hold an emergency conference on earth to discuss the problem, rather than simply let the Preventers deal with it. Four, they obviously wanted something from the world leaders. What? Relena had no idea. Five, they might have infiltrated government positions. Proof? At least one, if not more, of the Preventers could not be trusted. Six, they had sprung up after her death, or coma, so perhaps that in some way had triggered their rise . . . And then, Seven. Seven? Well, she couldn't think of a Seven . . .which just went to show how little she truly knew.

A knock on the door startled her, making her wandering mind stop in its tracks. She realized after a moment that the soft _tap tap_ of Heero's fingertips had muted. She glanced at him then, and somehow, his shoulders seemed tense . . . surprised.

Still, he didn't move, and after a moment the knock sounded again, this time accompanied by a voice.

"Heero, buddy, you better open up _now_."

Relena blinked. Heero still didn't move, besides to lower his head ever so slightly. His fingers resumed their typing.

Relena wrinkled her brows in confusion, glancing at the door once more. Heero looked oblivious to the fact that someone was on the other side.

A moment passed, then the knocking resumed, stronger this time. "Heero! I know you're in there!"

Heero still didn't seem ready to respond.

The knocking stopped briefly, and Relena heard a growl from the other side of the wood. Then, "Don't say I didn't warn ya." There was a pause, and then a soft rustling and a familiar click. Then, abruptly, came a loud, miniature explosion that made Relena jump and yelp. The lock, smoking, fell out of the cheap wooden door. A moment later, the door swung open effortlessly and a figure stood in the light of the doorway, his black clothes and sunglasses a stark contrast to the light of the hall. He raised an eyebrow, leaning on his left forearm on one side of the door frame.

"Why do you always have to do things the _hard_ way?"

Heero paused in his typing, then calmly reached over to switch the monitor off. When he turned, his face was cool, collected; nothing of his former grief seemed visible. Relena could still see it, though; it was hovering, just under the surface.

"You're paying for that," was Heero's only answer.

"Yeah. Whatever." The man in black took a step into the room, idly shutting the door behind him. He pulled back his coat, slipping the gun back into an empty holster on his waist, then crossed both arms over his chest, not at all intimidated. "Don't tell me _this_ is where the Hell you've been all along." Strangely enough, the man who had been responsible for the deaths of thousands wore a priest's collar.

Heero didn't bother to respond to the inquiry. "What do you want, Duo?"

"Oh, I don't know. Though I might come by and ask what the fuck you think you're doing."

Relena raised both eyebrows, standing from her seat. She'd never heard Duo in a temper before. It seemed . . . somehow uncharacteristic. Somehow, they were all beginning to seem uncharacteristic. What was going on?

Heero's returning gaze was a simple warning. "It's none of your business."

"Really?" Duo strode in, shutting the door behind him. Heero's gaze didn't seem to faze him; then again, perhaps he was too angry to notice. He plopped himself down on the couch rather calmly, in the same spot Heero had occupied earlier. Consequently, it was the only other clear seat in the entire apartment.

Heero just watched him sit, not saying anything. Duo raised one hand and began to tick items off his fingers one by one. "You disappear off the face of the earth in the middle of a crisis." One finger. "Nobody can find you, and even a network-wide call from Une herself doesn't bring you out." Two fingers. "_She_ could be dying." A third. Was that a wince, Relena caught out of the corner of her eye? The stoic Heero displaying emotion? "You're usually in the front line to stop stuff like this from happening, _especially_ when it's about her." Another finger. "And yet suddenly it's like you don't even care. And she _is_ dying, Heero." Hand completely open now, Duo paused to glance at it, sigh, and then let it drop back into his lap. "So everyone's come up with two possible explanations. One, you died. Or two, you're workin' with the enemy." Duo paused significantly. "Since you've survived drowning, self-destructing in a Gundam, twice, and jumpin' off a cliff, guess which explanation the majority believes?"

Heero wasn't watching him now; in fact, Heero wasn't watching much of anything. His gaze was stuck fast on the floor, and he suddenly seemed . . . defeated. That was the only word Relena could think of. Defeated. When had Heero ever been defeated? Something ice cold gripped her heart for a moment, and she wondered what was wrong. _Heero?_

Duo's short burst of temper had run it's course, or at least had put itself in hiding again, and now he suddenly looked worried. Questioningly, he began, "Heero?"

"There's a third option."

The words spoken so suddenly and so quietly that it took Duo a moment to realize he'd been interrupted. Eventually, though, he replied wisely, ". . . Huh?"

"There's a third explanation." Heero's face rose slowly; he drew in a breath carefully, steeling himself for something. Then, "It's because . . . It was all my fault."

Duo's reply was, once again, brilliant. ". . . What?"

Heero's countenance turned irritated. Relena knew very well how much he disliked repeating himself. "Relena." A pause. "It. Was. My. Fault."

Duo raised one hand to scratch the back of his head, perplexed. "So you're saying _you're_ the guy that slit her wrists? Doesn't that go against . . . I dunno . . . your entire life's purpose or somethin'?" But Duo, despite many attempts to convince people otherwise, was not an idiot. He was buying time, Relena could see. The wheels in his head were turning, trying to process the few tidbits of information he'd been given. Already, the corners of his lips were turning down.

Heero growled, then stood, looking frustrated. Duo simply raised both eyebrows, unafraid. Heero's anger seemed untargeted, however; it was pointed randomly, fired wherever his gaze swung. Heero ran both hands though his hair and walked to the kitchenette, then back, restless and unnerved.

Finally, "No. No. I might as well have, but . . . She did it . . . because of me."

There was a pause. Then Duo leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He looked relaxed . . . relaxed the way a lion looked before it was about to strike. Duo's violet gaze was every bit intense as Relena had ever seen it. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously low: no fiery frustration here. There was merely simple, cold calculation. "This would be the part where you get _real _good n' specific, buddy."

Heero turned back to face Duo fully, and his stance changed slightly. No longer was he facing a somewhat annoying, though trusted, friend. Now Heero knew he faced an opponent. His face became a set slate, and as he spoke, the words were flat, emotionless. He sounded as though he were giving a scientific report.

"She came to me about a month before . . .everything. It was right after we'd gotten over that car-bombing scare. I had that temporary apartment in Sanq that Une had required for the mission. It was late. I wasn't expecting her."

Relena sat down heavily once more, staring at Heero, too shocked to say a word. Not that it would've mattered if she had _screamed_ something, yet still. Heero was telling this to someone? To _Duo_ of all people? _Stop it!_ Her mind cried out. _That's private! What are you doing? Heero! How can you tell someone, anyone, about what happened between us? You_ can't _tell!_

"It was a bad night. It started raining after she came in. I offered to take her back home, but she refused. Said she wanted to talk.

"So, I let her stay. But she didn't talk, not really. Eventually she admitted that she was still shaken up over the near-death incident, as I had originally suspected."

_And what did you say, Heero?_ Relena asked him quietly, watching him_. What did you say to me?_

_'You don't ever have to be afraid so long as I have breath to protect you. I'll always look after you.' _

_And like an idiot, I believed you. I smiled. I hugged you. Why? Why did I do that? Yet . . . you know what, Heero? You hugged me back._

"So?" Duo spoke up, prompting Heero to break the pause.

"I tried to comfort her. I . . ." Here, Heero's confidence seemed suddenly to fail. Suddenly there were cracks in his iron-clad walls. His fortress was no longer impenetrable. His voice shook ever so slightly. "I think that's . . . what she wanted. I don't know why she came to me. I wasn't prepared to deal with it. _I_ was still a little shaken up over the close call. I wasn't . . . Things got out of hand. Neither of us were in our right minds . . ."

_And you _kissed_ me back._

"So you slept with her." Duo's words seemed just as matter of fact as Heero's, just as stoic. Like it was the weather that they were discussing. _'So then it rained.'_ Relena wanted to shake them both. This was still her life, too!

Wasn't it?

Heero stopping moving, though didn't deny it. He let out a breath slowly, tense. "It was a mistake."

Duo deigned not to answer for a moment. Then, "Still, it doesn't really seem like logical reason for suicide." _'Still, didn't think it would hail.'_

"No. She did it . . . because of what happened after."

"Oh?" Duo's voice seemed almost mocking. "What happened after?"

Heero was struggling with himself again. Lips compressed, he began to pace, agitated, restless: a tiger pacing in his cramped cage. He seemed to be looking for the right words. "You have to understand . . ." And now, he was talking to himself as much as Duo, "There's a _reason this had never happened before. _There's a reason I never asked her out on so much as a date. We've always . . . I mean . . . " A man of few words, Heero growled, spinning around again. " . . .I've always known that she . . . felt something for me. And it's because of that I tried to stay away."

"Right. Makes perfect sense. Everybody I know always tries to avoid the person they love."

"Damn it! What the hell would we talk about on a _date_, Duo?" He made the word sound foreign. "The five most vulnerable parts of the body? Which store-bought ingredients make the best bombs? Or, maybe, decorations for her new house or current political debates." His arms were clamped tight against his side; tense, so tensed . . . "Do you get it? We just don't _fit_."

"If your best excuse is that you've got a limited source of conversation topics . . . that's just pathetic." Duo straightened on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. "You barely talk anyway. All of us have gotten used to having to hold up the bulk of the conversation already."

Heero glared at him. Relena had a feeling Duo was purposefully trying to prick a nerve, though she couldn't fathom why. He still hadn't regained the friendly demeanor that always seemed to be about him.

Still, Duo shut up at the look and continued to wait expectantly. Heero regarded him a moment, then turned away, sitting back down at his laptop again. Resolutely, he jerked the thing open and began to bring up files. "I've been researching the group that calls themselves the White Doves. Something about them doesn't pan out."

"Heero?" Duo asked, standing slowly.

Heero merely continued. "Their ideals obviously contradict their actions, but there's something more sinister here."

"Heero." Duo stated a bit more strongly, coming to the other man's shoulder. "What happened?"

"I think the Preventers are on the wrong course for tracking them down. The men they've got under suspicion for controlling the group are just lackeys. I've found evidence that this goes way deeper than--"

"That's great, Heero." Duo snapped, cutting him off. "But all I want to know right now is what happened between you and Relena."

"It's inconsequential," Heero replied smoothly. His grace, his calm facade, was back. He seemed to be in complete control again. Calmly turning back to the computer, Heero pointed towards an article he had brought up on the screen. "As I was saying, I think the group goes deeper tha--"

Moving much faster than it seemed possible, Duo reached over and snapped the laptop shut. Lightening-quick reflexes were the only things that let Heero remove his hand in time. Heero glared back dangerously, his entire stance quite suddenly dangerous, as he rose into a half-standing position.

"Whoops." Duo said. The two men squared off, deep blue eyes piercing into violet ones, both silent and waiting.

Relena stared. This was... this was not the Duo she knew. She had never seen him with so short a temper, and never so... stressed. And Heero? Heero looked ready to kill him. Well, he always seemed ready to kill somebody, but rarely did the danger seem so immediate. If she could've, Relena would've picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1. She was certain one would kill the other.

"Duo..." Heero began in a low, warning growl. Duo's eyes narrowed even further in response.

"Look. I don't really care what your issues are right now. All I know is that there's a very important woman lying in that hospital, and she ain't waking up. And you're tellin' me you might've put her there. So if you have a clue as to what's goin' on or how we can help her, _that_ is what you need to start talking about. Everything else can just wait for now."

Heero's gaze became icy. "That's what I--"

Suddenly, there was a sharp knock on the door. Both men froze, glancing in that direction. After a moment of silence, the knock came again, more insistent.

Duo glances back at Heero, his voice flat. "I really wish you'd ask me for a favor right now." Heero grunted, his eyes flashing back only briefly. Relena was absolutely lost. Favors? What did that have to do with anything right now?

Still, the men no longer seemed to be facing off against each other. As one, they turned towards the door, ready to face this new, possible enemy. The knock sounded again, this time accompanied by the jiggling of the knob. The door immediately swung open, the lock still broken from before. The man behind it looked shocked to see it move, his other hand still half-raised to knock again.

Some of the tension in the boys seemed to fade. Relena regarded this newcomer curiously; he was middle-aged, with a slightly rounded stomach, balding a bit on the top of his head. Despite his age though, he carried an air of strength, though the look was more of brute strength than the smooth grace of the soldiers Relena was familiar with.

Dropping his hand, the man cleared his throat, regarding Heero. "Mr. Smith. I'm sorry to bother you, but some of the other tenants thought they heard gunshots earlier."

Heero grunted, opening his mouth, but Duo beat him to the punch.

"Who are you?" The braided man demanded curiously.

The man straightened, addressing this newcomer. "I'm the landlord here," He stated, drawing himself up. "And we have a pretty clear policy on weapons--"

"Oh, I gotcha." Duo began to fish around in his jacket, chuckling slightly. "Sorry to bother you, but it's standard procedure-- ah, here we are." Pulling out his wallet, Duo flashed his badge. "Preventer duty; I'm sure you understand."

The landlord looked shocked. "You're a Preventer?" He asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing. "I'm not sure you guys are allowed to just use guns whenever you--"

Duo cleared his throat, smoothly closing the distance between them as he re-pocketed his wallet. "My mission here is top priority, so unfortunately I'm not allowed to explain it to civilians." He rolled his eyes and sighed as if cursing the orders himself. "I gotta say, though, I'm real impressed you responded so quickly. Shows real character, your responsibility to protect your tenants."

Relaxing somewhat, the man nodded. "We've really gotta be careful 'round here. Had a few close calls in the past."

Duo nodded, putting his hand on his chin. "You certainly seem like a man who knows how to handle such situations."

"Well," The man stated slowly, rubbing the back of his head, "Ya can't be too safe, ya know..."

"Oh, believe me, I know." Duo nodded. "In fact, I've got a few questions for you, if you wouldn't mind..." Smoothly, Duo drew the man back out into the hall, closing the door behind them.

Crisis averted, Heero turned away, calmly beginning to unplug his laptop. In a short amount of time, he had the wires and the laptop itself packed away in a small carrying case. Relena watched as he pulled out a small suitcase, beginning to throw in his few other possessions. His movements lacked the normal precision and organization that they normally contained. Instead of carefully folding up his shirts as he placed them in the case, the garments got thrown in haphazardly, carelessly, and Relena noticed quite a few wrinkles on the shirt he wore now. It seemed so strange to see a man who was usually so neat be so... sloppy.

They were alone again, but for how long? Sighing, Relena sank down again, unable to keep her eyes from watching him. Even now...

At least he hadn't told Duo everything. She wondered what Duo would've said. Would he still have thought her an idiot for what she did? Would he at least understand? Relena knew it didn't really matter, but quite suddenly, she very badly needed someone to know and understand. She didn't want pity. She wanted comprehension.

Just as Heero was clicking the small suitcase shut, Duo reappeared with a sigh, the door swinging shut behind him. Only a few minutes had passed. The smile he had put on so briefly was gone again, and now he merely looked tired, shaking his head.

"Finally got him to go back home," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Took a while. I'm just not as good at leading people. Now, Quatre--" But he cut off quite suddenly, a pained look crossing his features.

Heero said nothing for a long moment. Then, "Have they found an antidote yet?"

Duo barked a short, mirthless laugh. "Nowhere near close enough. These damn White Doves constructed one hell of a virus, and the worst part is, the medics still don't even know how he got infected. I mean, he'd been guarded the entire time..." Trailing off, Duo shook his head. "Wufei's pissed. He wants to put the blame on his team, but he knows they didn't do anything wrong. Well, not really. Trowa..." Duo paused for a moment, then continued, "Trowa's almost taking this personally. I've never seen him like this. He seems to be on an even shorter string than Wufei lately, and this man usually has the patience of an elephant."

Heero didn't reply this time, except for a small sound of acknowledgement. He returned his attention to the case containing his laptop, which Duo just seemed to notice.

"Glad to see you're packed," Duo murmured, raising both eyebrows. "Our shuttle's leaving in two hours or so."

Heero shook his head. "I'm not--"

"You sure as Hell _are_," Duo stated calmly, "even if I have to hold a gun to your temple and flash my badge the entire way. And I will."

Heero straightened, seeming ready to fight again.

"It's for the best." Duo murmured, not about to take no for an answer. "Believe me, if I don't bring you back, Une will issue a man hunt for you, and you don't want that. Just come back with me, Heero. You can sulk after Une's done with you."

"I am not_--"_

Relena jumped about three feet into the air as gunshots erupted in the hall. Both men froze, and Duo moved for his gun, but the pounding of footsteps on the other side of the door moved too quickly.

The door burst open, and men in white uniforms poured in, guns trained on the two Gundam pilots. Duo's gun raised to fight off the first incoming men, but it was blasted from his hands with a cool shot from a slender figure just behind the first three. Duo swore, yanking his hand back; blood splattered against the ground.

More men continued to pour in to fill the tiny room, blocking off all exits. Heero didn't bother to reach for the gun Relena knew he perpetually carried on him. In fact, Heero didn't move at all, merely regarded this intrusion with a ready air. Not that fighting would've done any good; there were twenty armed men in the room and more out in the hall. All wore a strange white uniform that seemed familiar to Relena in some way, but she couldn't place it.

Relena stared at her friends, backed into a corner. Mentally, she pleaded with them to run, to fight, to do _something _other than stand there as twenty gun barrels were aimed directly at their hearts. Relena couldn't understand how any of this could be possible. The men moved like _soldiers, _but the war had been over for years. How could this be happening?

One man with dark brown hair motioned to one of the soldiers behind him. Carefully raising his gun just a tad, he addressed the blue-eyed pilot.

"Heero Yuy?" He demanded, as the soldier behind him handed him a small, thick piece of paper.

Heero said nothing, only watched them warily. Duo was glaring.

The man glanced at the paper, then at the silent pilots, then back again. "Yes," He murmured, nodding. He handed the sheet back and motioned, off-hand, towards Duo.

"Take care of him."

Relena stared in horror as one of the white soldiers calmly lifted a long gun and aimed it as the braided man.

The gunshot, somehow, didn't seem as loud as it should've been. That was all Relena could concentrate on as Duo jerked back, as if he'd been hit with a sledgehammer, a stunned look on his face. Relena could do nothing but watch as he hit the side of the desk and, almost in slow motion, slid to the ground.

She watched, and no one heard her scream.


End file.
